Radium and Regrets
by RadiumShadow17
Summary: The story of Fallout 4, told through the eyes of a female sole survivor as she searches the wastes for her son, joined by another relic from the past, who possesses secrets of his own. Walk through the wastes with them as they discover the changes that have come over the world since the Great War, and learn how to survive what dangers are still to come.
1. Chapter 1

Radium and Regrets,

A Fallout Story

Disclaimer: I do not own any portion of the Fallout universe, I am merely playing in it for the sake of telling the story.

===Chapter 1===

October 23, 2077

At the breaking point from constant war over petroleum and uranium, the world finally ended with the launch and landing of a global nuclear strike. This is the story of the world after the end, when the Fallout would give way to a new world, a new way of life, with two things alone remaining constant. That humanity, in one form or another would continue to endure as would threats to that humanity; and that war, war never changes.

Nathan Pine smiled and wiped the condensation from the mirror, revealing the handsome features of one who had been used to the combat that had so plagued the world as of late. He muttered the opening line of his speech and turned to his wife waiting to get to the mirror so she could fix her hair. He grinned. His beautiful wife had gone a different route than he had career-wise, instead a hotshot lawyer for a big name firm responsible for championing several newsworthy causes as of late. Rumor was, he knew, that they were planning on making her Partner in the near future. Not bad for one of the newer graduates of her Suffolk County law school. His eyes roamed over her body as she smirked coyly at him, lightly bumping him with one hip.

"Gonna stand there preening over your good looks all day, or get out of my way so I can fix my hair, darling?"

Nate smirked, swatting his wife on the backside, causing her to bite back a moan and playfully shove him away.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I just want to look good for my speech, you know?"

Charlotte Pine chuckled softly, the noise like music to her husband's ears, her man's soft Texan accent bringing to mind swimming holes, lemonade, and long lazy summers.

"Well from where I'm standing you don't have to work too hard on that score, lover."

Nate smirked.

"Eyes off my ass, once we get there, it's unprofessional for you to be sizin' me up like a cow's backside."

Charlotte swiftly and professionally styled her hair into a low bun, her brunette locks still wet from the shower, baby blue eyes on her husband's reflection for a few lingering seconds before she finished up and slipped out of the bathroom, heading into their bedroom and grinning at the chalk white Stetson cowboy hat perched on top of her husband's neatly pressed and ironed fatigues, reminding herself to ask later whether or not he planned on wearing it to tonight's speech. She hummed softly to herself and walked into the kitchen to help their robotic butler Codsworth, finish up the last of breakfast before she poured herself a glass of sweet tea. The tea had been, expertly, in his opinion, prepared by her husband's own hand rather than allow Codsworth to do it, instead having their faithful butler fix his coffee, black, two sugars like he always liked. "Dark and kinda bitter, like my CO's soul," he'd joke.

His hair neatly trimmed, her husband walked into the living room and took a sip of his coffee, as she inwardly laughed over her husband's penchant for making her tea without any help, shaking her head at the oft repeated quote from his mama that a true Southern Gentleman should never leave a task that important to anyone else. Of course she didn't particularly care for it, finding it just a touch too sweet, but found it an endearing trait of Nate's, so she always drank it anyway. She munched on a piece of bacon as Nate turned on the TV and sat down to watch, eyes narrowing at the newscaster's views on local politics, idly wondering whether the Red Sox would finally break their losing streak and make it to the World Series thanks to Matt "The Missile" Murtagh. He hoped not, much as it would pain his neighbors. He may live in Boston, but he was a Texan to the core. He grinned and watched the news, his mind briefly drifting to their missing dog, wondering where the lovable little mutt had run off to. At that moment, the sound of Shaun crying snapped him out of his thoughts, Codsworth heading into the nursery to change the infant as a knock sounded at the door.

"Probably that Vault-Tec rep, hon. Go answer the door and try actually talking to the man for once instead of blowing him off. He's been after you for days now, just bite the bullet."

Nate shook his head with an exasperated smile.

"Yes, dear."

"Good boy."

"Mama Pine didn't raise no fool."

Both of them laughed as Nate stood up, smoothed out his T shirt and walked to the door, opening it to the excited face of the Vault-Tec rep, who extended a hand. Nate tuned out much of what was said, though he was outwardly polite enough with the man, the interview soon over as the man wearing entirely too much yellow departed, leaving Nate to quip something about wondering where the man's monkey had wandered off to. At the sound of Codsworth's voice, Nate turned and smiled, heading into the nursery at the robot's insistence that Shaun needed "…some of that paternal affection you seem to be so good at."

Nate pecked his wife on the cheek as got up and walked into the nursery, idly spinning the spaceship mobile with one finger as he smiled down at his boy and scooped Shaun into his arms, his voice quiet as he gently cradled his son close, unknowingly bringing a smile to his wife's face as he sang an old lullaby his mother would sing to him. After a few precious minutes, he replaced the sleeping infant in his crib.

"Love you, buddy," he said with a smile as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead, hazel eyes shining with unshed tears at the thought of the perfect son he and his beloved had created together. For a moment, visions danced in his head of Shaun's first steps, his first day of school, teaching his boy to shoot, to throw a baseball, to ride that little red tricycle they'd bought him. Shaun's first Red Sox game. Fireworks on the Fourth of July. He smiled. This would be a good life.

Charlotte watched the man she loved with a smile, walking over and putting a hand on his back, rubbing his shoulders gently.

"How are the two most important men in my life doing?"

"Just fine, love."

"I was thinking, maybe we could take Shaun to the park later?"

"Will it be like that night a year ago," Nate as he waggled his eyebrows.

Charlotte grinned.

"Oh no, I am not letting you get me pregnant again, mister. …So soon, anyway."

"Wait…what?"

She chuckled softly at his "deer-in-the-headlights" expression and kissed him softly on the lips, baby blues locked on deep brown.

"Sir? Mum? You…you really should come and see this!"

They froze. Codsworth sounded…worried. Genuine fear in the robot's voice. That was a bad sign. They locked eyes and walked back into the living room, Shaun still cradled in Nate's arms.

"What is…"

"…Yes, confirmed reports. Flashes. Nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania, we are receiving further reports of detonations…"

"Oh God…"

"Sir, Mum, I really do think you should head for shelter…"

Nate's eyes snapped up to the sound of warning klaxons and the voice over the loudspeaker of emergency response telling those that were registered to make their way to Vault 111 on the outskirts of town.

"I've got Shaun, honey. Let's move."

Charlotte's eyes rested on Codsworth. So loyal. Ever present.

"Codsworth I…," her voice broke as she smiled shakily. "Please find a way to stay safe. You're a part of our family."

Nate smiled softly.

"No matter what happens, buddy, just…don't die on us."

Codsworth's photoreceptors blinked once or twice as though he were "clearing his eyes".

"Be safe!"

The two turned and sprinted from the house, heading for the vault, noting the presence of their friends and neighbors alongside them. The house at the end of the cul-de-sac, a marginally more impressive edifice than most of the homes in Sanctuary Hills, stood empty, its sole occupant, a sharply dressed man in a well-tailored black suit with blue tie, neatly trimmed goatee, and perfectly combed hair. The man stood in the street casting his stern gaze over everyone as they ran toward the Vault. Nate's eyes narrowed slightly as he noted the man silently moving his lips. Counting. Whoever it was was staying behind the rest of the group, making sure they all got to the vault in one piece before he sprinted off behind them. Nate lost sight of the man, soon making it to the Vault entrance, a nod to the soldiers in T-45 military issue power armor, the officer checking him and his family off the list.

"Good luck, gentlemen."

One of them hefting a minigun spared him a glance.

"You too, Staff-Sergeant."

Nate headed for the elevator, noting in the back of his mind that the black-suited neighbor, some desk jockey for the Defense Intelligence Agency he'd met in Anchorage during the battle, had vanished without a trace. He didn't know much about the man beyond the man's rank of Lieutenant and that his name was Grimm. He knew the man didn't get on the elevator with them, and silently fumed that the man had probably fallen behind to help someone else. Desk jockey he may have been, the man had conducted himself as a solider to the end.

The flash was titanic. Blinding. The sound, moreso. Nate's last view of the world above as the elevator descended into darkness was one of fire and light and wind. The madness of a nuclear holocaust that had shattered the calm of their idyllic and peaceful Saturday morning. Nate blinked and turned his eyes from the scene. Everything had changed.

Charlotte paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs to check on the Whitfields, the husband and wife regular visitors at family dinners in the Pine household, gently squeezing Mrs. Whitfield's shoulder as she followed the Overseer's instructions and headed up the stairs, slipping into her form fitting vault suit and heading down a hallway lined with mysterious looking…pods, was the only way to describe them. She dimly registered something about decontamination, wondering if the canisters on the sides of the pods were filled with some sort of gaseous disinfectant, looking across to her husband's pod, locking eyes with the man she promised her heart to, as he smiled reassuringly, adjusting his grip on their infant boy.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The pod closed over her, the gas beginning to flow. She knew something was wrong, when things began to get so very very cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Fallout universe.

A/N: Not sure if anyone's reading this yet, on with chapter two!

Captain Thomas Grimm frowned as his eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright from his bed in Sanctuary Hills, his Colt 6520 US Army issue sidearm in an outstretched hand, the Pip-Boy on his nighstand playing a soft version of Reveille. He sighed and dropped the old military standby on the nightstand next to him, rising from the Spartan bed and calmly making it to Army regs, the old green wool blanket, known as "the green monster" to new recruits due to one's lack of willpower to escape from it when the day began, tight enough to bounce a coin off of. Making sure the hospital corners were correct, Tom pulled away from the mattress and ran a hand through coal black well-trimmed hair, running a hand over his face as he felt the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks. He reached over to turn off the alarm, noting the date of 2287. Sighing, he wandered through the concrete bunker below his house, to the small shower in a room offset from the main living area.

The main living area of his underground bunker encompassed kitchen, bedroom, and living area. Stepping into one of only two added rooms, he stripped and activated the shower with a scoff at his circumstances. He ducked under the shower and reached for the soap, bathing in water that, ironically for a fallout shelter, was heated and purified through a nuclear power source even further below his feet.

His morning ablutions done, Tom stepped out and dried off, slipping on a pair of white underwear as he picked up a dogtag chain, the dogtags mentioning his MOS as 35E, Military Intelligence with a focus on counter-intel. The dog tag chain also held a medallion in the shape of a shield, bearing the likeness of the Archangel Michael, patron saint of cops and soldiers. He smiled and kissed the medallion, slipping the chain on around his neck, craning his neck to either side, listening to the muffled pop of the tendons stretching out. He reached for his sidearm, admiring its resemblance to the old Colt 1911 his great-great-grandfather had carried as a member of the illustrious Flying Tigers during World War II.

More antiquated than the N99 sidearm that had been standard issue for US military forces during the Anchorage operation, the Colt 6520 was a 10mm sidearm that was in his mind, far tougher, and while it was perhaps cursed with a smaller magazine size, it was just as accurate and hit just as hard, his retooled to similar dimensions as the Colt 1911 from World War II. His version was special, custom crafted by an armorer who worked directly for Army Special Operations. He'd had the grips replaced with rosewood shortly after Anchorage, just before he'd returned home. Black Rose, he'd christened her, taking the time to examine his weapon carefully.

Glowing red dots on the sights from radioactive isotopes allowed for low-light targeting, the slide and barrel slightly weighted to be more accurate, the underbarrel rail mount occupied by a molded grip to allow him to hold it, albeit awkwardly, like a rifle. He set the pistol to one side as he thought about his plan for the day, his Vault 111 jumpsuit folded neatly in his dresser, as he put on clean military fatigues in Army green. He slipped on a pair of fingerless black leather gloves, and the black DIA issue Pip-Boy onto his left wrist. He checked the locking mechanism on a small storage tube on one end, a thick ferrocerrum firestarting rod slotted into it with a small textured thumb grip, the ferrocerrum rod molded into a rod of much larger diameter around it, made of magnesium. As his father and later his instructors had once told him, "fire is life", and with the ferrocerrum rod locked into place on his Pip-Boy, he'd never be without the ability to make it. He put the Pip-Boy on, locking it into place as he glanced at himself in the mirror, smoothing out his goatee. Another day another chance to complete his mission.

His orders had been clear, to try and reestablish connection with USNORTHCOM, and whatever was left of the Federal government, after he'd been brought out of cryostasis remotely. The emergency systems had kicked in after the computer systems registered remote activation of the civilian sector of Vault 111. Taking his personal sidearm from the armory, he'd grabbed a standard set of OD green combat armor, slipped it on over his vault suit, and headed toward his old home, bypassing the civilian vault. There, in the heat blasted ruins of his old neighborhood he'd discovered a Mr. Handy, named Codsworth, who'd been kind enough to reveal to him certain things, what little the robot knew nothing special, given that its programming bid it stay close to home. The robot had seemed…well, if it were human, Thomas would have said the poor guy had gone nuts. He'd determined that the robot belonged to the Pine family, and remembered Nathan Pine, a Staff-Sergeant with the 108th Infantry Division, Fox Company, having served with distinction in Anchorage, before transferring to the National Guard to be with his new wife. They'd had a son…Shaun, if he remembered right, the wife's name Charlotte. Thomas promised himself he'd return to Vault 111 when circumstances allowed, but meanwhile he'd struck out for signs of civilization, heading to the Boston Mayoral Shelter at first, finding it deserted save for a few threats in the form of overgrown insects he'd readily dispatched. After a week of wandering "The Commonwealth", as the natives had taken to calling this area of Massachusetts, he'd discovered only that the military was…absent from this world. He'd walked the cracked, broken roads under skies both clear and cloudy, finally returning to Sanctuary only long enough to resupply and ponder his next move before heading out again, the robot telling him that signs of life were showing in the city of Concord.

Thomas had what most in the post-war world would call a cushy, if utilitarian setup, though he worried about the details only as much as they affected his current objective, finding military personnel, banding together, and trying to locate whatever had survived of the government so they could set about rebuilding the world as best they could. Shelf after shelf of canned H20, military grade MRE's, the preservation techniques of which combined with their location beneath the earth had kept them edible and radiation free, enough food for one person to survive for several years. Enough ammunition in 10mm, 5.56mm, 7.62mm, .45 and .50 caliber to fight a a battle or two, and enough other supplies and sundries that would allow him to live a manageable, if lonely lifestyle.

Thomas shook himself from his musings and took up his rifle, the customized weapon based on the old R91 assault used by US forces during the war, both at Anchorage and at home by the National Guard. It had been altered special forces style with a marksman style telescoping stock, cheek rests built into either side, a ported shroud slipped over the barrel and front furniture that nearly extended beyond the muzzle, and a West Tek military issue isotope powered red dot sight. He had since modified it himself with a 7.62 millimeter lower receiver loading standard issue 30 round curved slab sided magazines, those of the muted brick color popular in Russia known as Bakelite. Operating where he had, American issue rounds were not always readily available, so circumstances had forced him to adapt.

Finally the rifle had an under barrel bayonet, the long slender blade resembling the spiked knuckle trench knives in use by Allied forces during World War Two. He'd christened the rifle Alma, named after a young Lieutenant he'd known in Washington D.C back when he was fresh out of OCS. The memory brought a faint smirk to his face.

Known in the Biblical sense, at least. Her clearance wasn't high enough for Vault-Tec to reserve her a spot, and definitely not enough for reservations in cryo. A damn shame. Everyone I know has likely been dead for more than…enough! Back on mission, solider. Compartmentalize, Focus, follow through. Get it done!

Tom shook his head violently, forcing himself back to the present. He sheathed his combat knife "Scythe" over his right shoulder blade, the weapon vaguely resembling a stylized machete with a custom grip that had been literally molded to fit his hand, with a 15 inch long blade, crafted from a Saturnite and titanium alloy, courtesy of the folks at the Big MT research facility, the blade capable of both holding an edge and holding heat like no one's business. He'd taken the time to wrap the grip with military issue duct tape, just in case he'd need some, the grip still perfectly molded to his hand with how he'd wrapped it. The blade itself had a straight spine, with a gentle slope outward about halfway up the blade edge, then back in to a sharp narrow point at the blade tip, the curve of the blade lending it weight while still allowing for a straight edged thrust. A tiny quarter inch length of dog tag chain protruded from the reinforced butt of the grip, ending in a small plastic skull, a pace counter, repurposed as an ornament for the weapon.

Tom had been careful in the long years of his service never to unnecessarily expose the Saturnite blade to heat, knowing it would take an hour to cool again. Two years in the infantry with that blade had proven that wealth and contacts could serve a man quite well even in the military. His sidearm, Black Rose, was holstered in a horizontal shoulder holster under his left arm, under his right, storage for three slightly extended ten round magazines of 10mm ammunition. His canteen clipped at the back of his tactical belt, with a sheath on his left thigh filled with four throwing knives, razor sharp and perfectly balanced, custom crafted out of the remains of four small wrenches, the lugnut tightening rings on the back actually aiding the balance. He kept a long thin sheath for his bayonet directly behind those. His right hip was occupied by a 12 gauge single-shot break action flare pistol, a five inch barrel and a grip made of black walnut designed to resemble an old world revolver grip, the weapon now loaded with triple ought buckshot. His pack, ergonomically designed to be as flush to his body as he could manage, water, MREs, stimpaks, his stream-lined version of the venerable US Army M-17 gasmask strapped to the exterior, a combat knife sheathed horizontally across the top of the pack for use as a camp knife. An old oil travel lantern hung off a strap on the left, his sleeping bag rolled up and strapped to the bottom of the mid-sized pack. Concealed within the pack were his tent, bandages and other first aid supplies.

Lastly, tucked away inside was a long, heavy black hooded leather duster with a split up the back for horse riding, though a small zipper on the inside of the coat could be used to seamlessly close the split to change the style of it on a whim, two smaller slits on the sides the same way, allowing for more freedom of movement for his legs when fighting or running. The shoulders and upper mantle were wrapped with one broad swath of treated cloth, the coat reinforced with an asbestos lining, lightweight ballistic fiber, and treated to be resistant to radiation, with a slim black pad of light leather shoulder armor on the right shoulder, molded to be almost flush with the rest of the coat, the armor pad thicker and tougher than the rest of the coat and obviously sewed on after the coat was made. The left arm of the coat, just below the shoulder, had two vertical rows of webbed loops sewn on, Tom's contribution, both rows with room for six shotgun shells apiece, while the right forearm of the coat had loops with room for six other 12 gauge shells, these standard flares for the flare gun. The collar of the coat, buried beneath the swathes of cloth, had twin buckles, so that the collar could be closed around the lower part of the face, leaving the eyes in view. The ankle length coat had been a gift from a wealthy merchant whose life he had saved two days prior…only to die five seconds later as Thomas was walking away, shot in the head with a sniper's bullet. Tom had never found the sniper.

The pack itself was colored in its entirety a dull gray, with a US flag patch near the top of it, at the back. An external pocket on the back near the right had a red square patch with a white cross in the center, his standard first aid and trauma kit, a military issue canteen in a pouch on the left side of the pack.

With the total stock of his gear shaved down as much as he could realistically sacrifice, the weight not exceeding about seventy-five pounds, Thomas shouldered his pack, picked up his rifle, and left the bunker via the ladder, leading to a trap door inside what remained of the sheet metal toolshed behind his house, a nod to Codsworth as he headed for Concord, the robot worrying about what "Master Nathan" would think of the car when he saw it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Chapter three, folks!

Blaze1992: Thanks for being my first reviewer. And our friend Tom has a few secrets of his own, he's not quite the same as the Male Soul Survivor. In canon, Power Armor required special training, and Tom prefers other weapons in his arsenal. All will be explained. I like your idea for a story, though. Go write it yourself so I have something to review!

Charlotte wiped the tears from her eyes and reloaded the N99 10mm pistol she'd found on the corpse of one of the people who'd been Vault Security, using the two handed grip that her husband Nate had shown her time and again on the pistol range, carefully sweeping the dilapidated vault for signs of a threat. They'd awakened from what she now knew was cryostasis, only to find someone in what looked like a cleansuit for radioactive or chemical hazards trying to take Shaun from Nate's arms. There had been another man. She remembered the details sharply, detail a constant part of her life as a lawyer. Leather. Metal on one arm, a brace maybe? Bald. Scarred. …A killer. He'd shoved a gun into Nate's face. Nate, reacting from years of training, had deftly shifted Shaun to one arm, using his free hand to knock the killer's revolver aside, an elbow strike breaking the man's nose and causing blood to gush forth. Nate had intended to step forward, but was distracted by the woman trying to take his child. By the time the killer had regained his senses long enough to level his revolver at her husband's heart, there had been no recovery.

Concord may have been the site of the Shot Heard 'Round the World, but for Charlotte, that one moment crystalized for her into the sound she would remember until her dying day, the look of utter disbelief on Nate's face before the light died in his eyes forever. Her grip on the pistol tightened enough for her knuckles to pop as she suddenly spun, firing off five shots at one of those over-sized roaches, the creepy crawly the size of a small dog. She screamed out her rage at the situation before she shook her head, forcing herself to remain calm.

Get a grip, girl. Your son needs you, and you don't know when you'll find ammunition again.

Charlotte shook her head and continued down the dimly lit hallway, past the Overseer's office, promising herself to come back for the nifty looking "Cryolator" in the locked security case. She frowned as she noticed the Pip-Boy on the skeleton's forearm at her feet, fitting it over her left arm and locking it into place as she headed for the elevator. She turned on the Pip-Boy and noted the date as being October 23rd. Sighing she looked away and stepped onto the elevator the steady rise into the unknown filling her with trepidation. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as the mechanical voice told her to enjoy her future, and opened her eyes.

Horror. People think they understand the definition of the word, but it's a bit like Hell, in that, it's just a word to some people. For perhaps only the second time in her life, Charlotte Pine understood what it was to be gripped with pure, unrelenting horror as she viewed the desolation of what had been her home, the shock of it nearly causing her to slump to her knees, though the former lawyer stumbled forward rather than down, one foot in front of the other as if on autopilot as he feet almost robotically found their way back home, her mind numb as she squinted her eyes in the bright, washed out light of the sun, the world appearing bleak and miserable.

I can't be the only one left here! I can't. Need to find someone, anyone, need to find help! Need to keep moving. Nate's old military gear, the pistol he kept. Need to find it, search for supplies…oh Shaun…your mother's coming, sweetheart, just hold on.

Seeing Codsworth again had left her in a state of utter disbelief, though she'd managed to convince him to drop his façade long enough to pry the truth of things out of him, reminding him emphatically that he was still a member of the family even if two hundred years had passed since they'd laid eyes on each other. The response from her faithful butler had left her smiling slightly, though the smile dropped once he'd mentioned the solider that had come through a week ago, only to stop back in less than an hour ago before heading into Concord to search for signs of life. She frowned, thinking back. The man in the black suit…Grimm…Lieutenant Grimm. Or was it Captain? She shook her head. A DIA desk jockey she'd heard from her husband, something about an accident two years into service with the infantry that had left the man with a severe distaste for combat and a desire to be shackled to a desk for the rest of his military career. She shook her head. If it was the same man, depending on the action he'd seen, two years in the infantry could mean he knew how to handle himself…or would be a complete liability, if he'd been stationed somewhere where he'd never seen any combat. She sighed to herself as she followed Codsworth around Sanctuary, killing off over-sized flies and roaches before returning home again, and headed into the wreckage of her house, poking around a bit before she walked into her old bedroom, knowing that Nate had kept a large storage safe embedded in the floor beneath the bed. The sentimental man had used his wife's birthday as the code to the safe.

Charlotte scowled at the remains of the splintered bed and resolved herself to the idea of doing what she could to repair things once she'd recovered her son. Shoving debris aside and entering the passcode, she was rewarded with the soft whoosh of air rushing into a vacuum, the foot-locker sized opening revealing itself to her as she peered in. Perfectly preserved thanks to military technology courtesy of a higher up whose life Nate had saved in the Anchorage campaign. She scanned the environment, frowning at the holes in the walls before scooping up his old military issue fatigues, heading into a part of the house with more privacy, despite the fact that the neighborhood was deserted. She stripped, changing quickly, lacing up the boots that were bigger than she'd hoped, the fatigues broader in the shoulders, though her "assets" helped to make up for that. She slipped a combat knife into a sheath on her left hip, Nate's old short-barreled N99 10mm pistol into a holster on her right hip, and grabbed what backup magazines she could scrounge up, expertly loading the pistol and chambering a round, all those visits to the gun range thanks to her hubby finally paying off. She folded and set aside the Vault suit, reattaching the Pip-Boy to her arm and then tracked down an olive drag duffel bag, cramming bottled water and what little food she could find that wasn't irradiated, mostly preserved prewar steak and some dehydrated vegetables, into the bag. She shouldered it diagonally, muttering to herself about needing to find a better bag, better supplies, and something tougher than a pistol, tucking away the baton and pistol from the Vault into the storage compartment under her bed. Just in case. Lastly she dug through the wreckage at the bottom of her closet, finding an old steamer trunk. A quick scan with her Pip-Boy showed no residual radiation, and she opened it, praying that the contents were safe. Her old climbing gear. A flash of memory, meeting the cute solider, then in his early twenties, at that climb in Montana. The two of them signing up for the same rock climbing course. She'd slipped. Fallen. "My hero", she'd called him, when he'd caught her. Their first date three days later…

Focus, Charlotte.

She shook her head, finding her old climbing axe, state of the art, crafted from alloys to be as strong as steel and light as aircraft aluminum. Only one though, the other axe having been lost on a solo climb in the Canyonlands, out in Colorado. She held the axe in her hand and studied it. It would help, both in its intended purpose for climbing, and, if need be, a tool for self-defense. She clipped it onto a carabiner she'd hung from her belt, standing and looking around before heading back outside, eyes on her dutiful robot butler silently floating nearby.

"Codsworth, I'm leaving for Concord."

"Very well, Mum. Oh, before I forget, Master Nathan recorded a message for you. He gave it to me, before…well…before the bombs."

Charlotte's hand shook as she took the tape and slipped it into the Pip-Boy, tears falling down her cheeks as she heard the voice of the man she loved, as if reaching out from beyond the grave.

"Oops, haha. Keep those little fingers away... Ah, there we go. Just say it, right there, right there, go ahead. Ah, yay! Hi honey, listen...I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother you are. But, we're going to anyway. You are kind, and loving, and funny, that's right, and patient. So patient, patience of a saint as your mother used to say. Look, with Shaun and us all being home together it's been an amazing year but even so I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes sure, things we'll need to adjust to. I'll rejoin the civilian workforce, you'll shake the dust off your law degree. But everything we do no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye. Bye honey, we love you."

She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes and reached out to lightly rest a hand on the side of one of Codsworth's "eyes", the closest thing she could get to stroking his cheek. The robot responded by laying a cool metal pincer on her shoulder, his voice calm and reassuring.

"Now now, stiff upper lip, mum! Your boy is out there and standing here feeling sorry for yourself won't solve anything! I shall stay here and guard the homefront as your late husband would say."

Charlotte smiled weakly, nodding and heading off without a word, making her way across the damaged wooden bridge, shaking her head as she noticed the car in the water below, The couple she remembered seeing pack their car to try to outrun the blast…they must have lost control and wound up in the water. She swallowed, turning away and continuing across the bridge to spy some sort of feral dog curled in a heap, a tire iron sticking out of its gut, the fur, what little there was, matted and covered in blood and other sticky fluids. The corpse next to it was covered in leather, pieces of leather armor here and there. She frowned and dropped to one knee, searching for any supplies that would come in handy before making her way forward to the old Red Rocket truck stop. Entering the dilapidated ruin, she carefully swept for hostile targets, her body slightly hunched, pistol extended forward in a two-handed grip as she cautiously moved into the building, sweeping left and right before finding her way to the back office, scanning the computer console there, shaking her head at the mundane problems people seemed to waste time on before the war. People really didn't have a clue, and they really should have. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She'd been out of the Vault less than a couple hours and she was already so exhausted…

A noise outside drew Charlotte's attention, the sound of, what was that, digging? She walked outside to see some pink…thing, staring at her. Her first thought was naked mole rat, but this thing was the size of a small dog, and had much bigger teeth. It spotted her and squealed, lunging at her as she fired in haste, her first shot going wild as she vaulted over the thing, spun, and put three rounds into it, the first in its back, the last two in its head, as though guided by an unseen force. She quickly began scanning for other targets, feeling the earth shift beneath her as she stumbled to the ground, now face to face with another one that had come up between her legs. She screamed and backpedaled, lashing out and kicking it in the face as she brought her pistol up, scrambling back to her feet and firing off three more shots. There was no way she could miss at that range, all three rounds striking it in the nose as it keeled over and died. She slumped to the ground to catch her breath, fighting the exhaustion brought on by the stress of her situation, almost resisting the urge to laugh at the futility of it all as she heard the same familiar sound, another one rising from the depths and squealing at her. She saw a brown flash out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly a German Shepard was there, attacking the mutated mole rat with a ferocity she couldn't believe. Too shocked to do anything but watch, she froze, the dog soon finishing off the mole rat with a jerk of its head, snapping the creature's neck beneath its jaws. The dog sniffled and looked over at her, and she stiffened, hand tightening on her pistol. The dog sat down and cocked its head at her quizzically. She blinked once or twice, catching her breath, as she noticed the dog was not doing anything remotely hostile.

"Th…thanks, pooch. You saved my life."

The dog barked, its back legs upright now as it dipped its head to the ground, tail wagging in the universal way dogs have of signaling playful friendliness.

Char got to her feet and extended a hand, the dog walking over and sniffing her before nuzzling into her hand. She kept her voice soft as she pet the dog.

"You lose your owner, buddy? Handsome fella like you, hard to believe no one owns you."

She dropped to one knee, sidearm holstered as she pet the dog, examining him more closely. Well fed, shiny coat, and not one sign of disease or decay, the dog was bright and attentive. Someone had shown this dog quite a bit of TLC, but she didn't see a collar.

"Well, until we find your owner, you wanna come along with me?"

The dog barked his agreement as Char scratched behind his ears before standing up and dusting herself off, scanning the surrounding area for any more potential hostiles before looking toward Concord. Suddenly, she noticed the dog's ears flick up, her new canine companion giving off a low growl. She paused, ducking for cover behind the refueling pump, crouching down and drawing her pistol as she spotted a man in dirty and torn military fatigues, wearing heavy combat armor.

Could this have been the mysterious military officer Cogsworth had mentioned to her? She wasn't certain. She kept quiet and listened close, eyes roving over the man's form. Thin, toned, and above all dirty, his fatigues stained with blood, a laser rifle in his hands. No name tape on his fatigue blouse. The look in his eyes, the heavy beard on his face. Younger than she would have expected. Cogsworth had mentioned a man in his thirties, with a neatly trimmed goatee. Whoever this was, it still remained to be seen whether he was friend or foe. Cautiously she rose, training her pistol on him, one hand extended, palm up, fingers spread in a non-threatening wave. The first shot almost hit her in the chest, a last minute dodge and pure dumb luck saving her. There was no second, the dog lunching for the man as he pointed the rifle at the dog.

"Stop!"

The man froze, looked at her, noted the pistol slightly shaky in her hands. The Pip-Boy on her wrist. The dog held its position and growled threateningly.

"Vault Dweller, huh? Grew up soft I'll bet. Never killed before."

"I…Identify yourself, damnit! Who are you?"

The man laughed.

"Wow, you are green, sister! I'm a Gunner. Not that it matters much, but I'm a Corporal. Scavenging mission, looking for new territory, and anything that can bring us profit. Trouble is, missy, anyone who isn't a Gunner…is a threat. Course, there is a way maybe I could let you live. If you give me everything you have. You can keep it all of course, if you help me…in another way. Gets awful lonely out on patrol…"

Charlotte frowned.

"I'm not looking for trouble. You go your way, I'll go mine. I'm looking for…my son was kidnapped. I could use some help. I've got money."

"Why didn't you say you had caps? Give me what you got and you can walk away…after of course we get to know each other a little better…"

Charlotte blinked. Caps?

"Caps?"

"What, you didn't think paper money meant shit to me, did ya? Caps are the currency of the Commonwealth. But, you don't have any caps, do ya, missy?"

Charlotte's eyes widened in fear. The dog growled as the man raised his rifle. She thought of Shaun. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Tom scowled, kicking the man's leg out from under him and snapping his neck, dropping the corpse to the ground and moving, two more 10mm shots, quick as lightning, and two more of…whatever these guys were, died from headshots. He'd entered from the east of town, drawn by the sounds of hooting and hollering, the sounds of gunfire, and the response of laser fire, familiar, but something faintly off. Modified somehow. Judging by what the dirty leather clad folks were screaming, they were nothing but bandits, thieves. He heard cries of the threat of rape, violence done to corpses, the burning alive of innocents. He'd acted, and now three people were dead. A solider may do many things with his life after war, but he remembers the training. Above all, Tom remembered that he was supposed to be one of the people protecting folk like those in the museum. A shot brought him out of his musing, one of the dirty scum behind him dropping dead from a laser blast to the chest. Tom laid eyes on someone, couldn't tell much from this distance beyond military fatigues, a little baggy but in good repair, and a full set of combat armor, minus a helmet. His pistol was raised, and she approached, rifle point square at his chest, a dog at her side. He blinked slowly.

Charlotte examined the man as he approached. Combat armor, military fatigues, a backpack, a customized military issue rifle held like he knew what to do with it. Goatee, black hair, good haircut, she supposed, casual kempt. His voice, she noticed, held a southern accent. Georgia perhaps. She recalled that he hadn't been their neighbor the entire time she and Nate lived in Sanctuary Hills, moving there about a month after they did.

"…Hello, neighbor."

Charlotte stared at him in shock.

"Who…how the hell are you alive?"

"Cryostasis, same as you. Your husband with you, or is he looking after your kid?"

Charlotte scowled.

"He's…no. He's not with me."

Tom frowned, lowering his pistol as the woman did the same.

"Those fatigues you're wearing look a little baggy for you."

His eyes drifted to the name tape on her right breast. Pine.

"…Your husband loan you those?"

Charlotte looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"No. Not exactly."

Tom frowned, lowering his head almost imperceptibly.

"Ah jeeze…I'm sorry, ma'am."

"You wanna make it up to me, prove you're more than just a desk jockey. I need help. My husband was shot in front of me and my child stolen."

Tom narrowed his eyes. Kidnapping children…

"Consider it done. First I think we've got other problems."

"Hey down there! Help us! We've got more Raiders inside, we're outnumbered! Take that laser musket and get in here! Please!"

Tom blinked at the man on the balcony, looking down at the corpse in more normal civilian clothing, much less dirty. A rifle lay by his side that Tom would have simply referred to as odd. Someone had cannibalized a standard US Military issue laser rifle, combined it with an old school wooden stock, duct tape, and what looked like metal binding strips and screws. An odd crank was on one side, and Tom cast a practiced eye over the weapon, divining its basic operating principles. Cranking it allowed the weapon to be charged, increasing the power and perhaps even the range of the shot. Tom noticed there was a strap attached to it and nodded to himself. Another weapon could always be useful, but for now he didn't want to unnecessarily weigh himself down. He propped it up by the door, performing a brass check on his sidearm and looking back at Charlotte.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Just try not to get in my way, desk jockey."

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Your husband trained you."

"What of it?"

"Actual combat experience is worth more."

"You have any?"

Tom scowled.

"Two years. Part of that was Anchorage. Stay close behind me, do not pull the trigger unless you intend to kill what you aim at, understand?"

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant."

"Captain, actually."

Tom cast an eye at the dog.

"Hey boy, not sure if you can understand me or how well trained you are, but we need you to be quiet, yeah?"

The dog dropped down low, a soft chuffing noise the only sound. Tom blinked once or twice.

"…I guess that will do. Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Fallout series.

Okay, on to chapter four!

The trio cautiously moved into the museum, Tom immediately snapping his pistol up and firing off four rounds, two shots a piece into the neck and head respectively of two Raiders, who slumped to the ground. Charlotte blinked incredulously.

"Hell of a shot, Captain."

"Shh."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him as they spotted the staircase.

"Saw that," he whispered quietly.

"How, you got eyes in the back of your head?"

"So you did do something then."

She paused for a moment in shock, shaking her head and hurrying to catch up with him. Slowly making their way through the museum, Tom suddenly held up a closed fist. Recognizing the hand signal for what it was from her husband's lessons, Charlotte paused, Tom then dropping his hand and motioning her backwards for a bit with a flick of his fingers as he holstered his pistol and pulled the bayonet off his rifle, letting it hang free on the sling as he silently approached the two Raiders having a conversation about being pissed they were told to hold their positions. He swept forward, left arm passing in front of one's face as he wrapped it around the man's neck from the front, kicking his leg out from under him, and jerking downwards, simultaneously lashing out with the bayonet and jamming it into the other Raider's neck, pulling the blade out as he snapped the neck of the man caught in his grasp. This done, he wiped the blade clean and reattached it to his rifle. Scanning their bodies for useful equipment, he set two pouches of bottle caps aside, standing up and looking back at Charlotte. She stood there in shock. He'd dropped two targets at close range in as many seconds and they never knew he was there.

"Just who the hell are you, anyway, Captain?"

Tom shrugged.

"I'm just a solider, ma'am. We should keep moving, those people will need our help."

He tossed the two bags of bottle caps at her.

"These are what pass for currency in this land. If you've got money from…before, it can still be used, but the value has depreciated."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow.

"Bottle caps? Seriously? Wouldn't that get, y'know, heavy after a while?"

Tom shrugged one shoulder, his pistol drawn as he scanned for targets, his eyes off her.

"Just what I heard."

"How long have you…"

"A week. Come on."

The two moved forward, listening to two Raiders on an upper balcony threated this group, whoever they were. Something about finding a way past the door eventually. Two quick laser blasts from Char eliminated the threat, Tom looking back at her and quipping something about her being a nice shot.

Charlotte smirked at him.

"You don't know the half of it, Soldier Boy. Better with a rifle than I am with a pistol in fact." She moved up and policed her kills as Tom approached another door, finding it locked. He dropped to one knee and pulled out a bobby pin and a small flathead screwdriver he'd been using as a tension bar, shifting his position slightly so what he was doing was out of view of Charlotte, artfully picking the lock in seconds as he stood up and put the pin and screwdriver away.

"Door's unlocked, must've just been blocked."

Charlotte meanwhile was ogling a weapon she'd picked up, idly wondering why someone who looked like he was one step above a Neanderthal would have something of this class of weapon.

In her hands was an OD green .308 Rangemaster semi-automatic magazine fed hunting rifle. It was an older rifle designed to bridge the gap between a civilian hunting rifle and military sniper rifle with the scope, a rather large one, mounted a little forward of the breech, the weapon itself blocky looking, but not overly bulky. A weapon in damn fine condition for what it was, considering the time period. Charlotte took the time to give the weapon a once over, her eye for detail aided by the fact that she'd actually learned to shoot on this exact model. She scrounged for rounds, remembering that the rifle took twenty round magazines, nodding to herself when she noted the rifle was fully loaded, and she'd managed to find four spare magazines, though she bit back a curse when she realized only one of them was loaded. Only forty rounds. Better than she could have hoped for, but not good enough. That, coupled with the remaining ammunition for her pistol, about thirty rounds, and the laser rifle she'd recovered from the Gunner, seven shots. She shook her head. She'd need some way to resupply, a more secure location, food, water. She glanced at Captain Grimm again. The DIA man seemed to be holding together well. The Pip-Boy on his wrist didn't resemble hers, exactly. Jet black for one, sleeker, less bulky, and she noticed a faint glow to the right of the screen, though she was too far away from him to make out precisely what it was, the top edge of the display screen flaring up and out ever so slightly by a few millimeters, and in the light…had it been sharpened? She focused again on its owner, filing that thought away for later perusal. Captain Grimm was physically fit, but in a way that suggested more than just the work he'd do chained to a desk. The way he'd taken down those two Raiders, it was obvious he'd kept up with workouts when he'd been reassigned to the DIA, and had learned his lessons well in the snows of Anchorage. She shook her head, following his lead. They headed down the hall, opening the door to find a man with skin the color of black coffee, wearing an outfit that would have looked right at home in George Washington's time, a bandolier across one shoulder with what looked like a radio attached to it. In leather gloved hands he held another of those odd laser muskets.

"Thanks for your help, you two. I don't know who you are, but your timing's impeccable. I'm Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."

Tom and Charlotte exchanged glances.

"Minutemen? So we've gone back in time, then?"

Tom glanced at Charlotte and resisted the urge to smile, looking to Preston.

"Ready at a minute's notice to defend the Commonwealth, that's what we do. Or did, anyway."

Tom engaged in conversation with Preston, mentioning Charlotte and her missing child, and the fact that they'd been frozen from before the war. Preston was sympathetic, but lamented that they had bigger, more immediate problems, a larger contingent of these Raider types on their way. Preston took a moment to introduce everyone to the two newcomers, Charlotte politely responding in kind. Tom's response was a gruff no nonsense reply of his last name, and nothing else. Charlotte resisted the urge to shake her head at the man, noticing the dog was now sitting at the feet of the old woman dressed like a fortune teller. She walked over and politely shook hands with the woman, surprised to learn that the dog at her feet was a known fixture around the Commonwealth, named Dogmeat.

"Dogmeat? So he's your dog then?"

"My dog? Oh no, child. Dogmeat is…he's his own man, you might say. Travels the wastes, helping folk who need it. He'll be as loyal to you as any dog that ever lived, and you'll need it to, the both of you. Your destinies are entwined with his, as they are with each other's. I've seen it. Like I saw you two come out of that ice box. Two people out of time, thrust into a new world with new possibilities, and new dangers. You'll need all the help you can get before the end, but you two will be a force for good, I know. I am sorry about your child. But his life force is still strong. He's still alive."

Charlotte stared at the old woman, Mama Murphy, she corrected herself, as she tried to process all that she'd heard. Tom's face was one of stoicism, blank as he watched the exchange.

"That's not funny!"

Mama Murphy raised a hand.

"Calm yourself, child. I meant no offense, it's the truth. Your son is still alive. Your search isn't at an end, but just beginning. There are those who can help you, but right now we need to worry about the other problem, worse than Raiders."

"Worse? What do you mean, worse?"

She glanced at Tom.

"Drawn by blood and death. Teeth, claws, and so much hate. I'd be careful about that. But then, I'd imagine you know a thing or two about malice, wouldn't you? Dark deeds in your past, kid. More still to come. You'll have to dig deep, bring back that part of yourself you buried."

Tom looked as if he'd just been stabbed, shaking his head.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes you do. You can't lie to me…Xuanlong."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Ma'am, I'm starting to believe you are psychic."

"Smart kid."

Tom shook his head and walked toward the others, noting the Asian man on the ground in a heap wearing disheveled clothing, hair all messed up, muttering to himself. He glanced at the woman, who eyed the Pip-Boy on his wrist with disdain.

"Oh great, are you two with the rescue team? Where are the rest of you?"

Tom looked at her, his response flat, emotionless, but with a strength behind it that spoke of utter certainty.

"I am the rescue team."

"What is one man going to do?"

Charlotte had torn her attention from Mama Murphy by this time, resolving to ask Tom about his reaction to what the old woman had said to him, specifically about his "dark past" and that "Xuanlong" comment, when she overheard Marcy Long's comment about him being a Vault Dweller. She watched as Tom approached, and in a low voice, whispered something into Marcy's ear no one else could make out. Marcy turned pale and took a step back, staring at Tom in horror as he nodded at her, walking back to Sturges, the man going into an explanation of the set of power armor on the roof of the museum and the 5mm mini-gun bolted to the interior of the crashed vertibird. Tom calmly held up a fusion core he'd snagged from the mayoral shelter, gave a predatory smile, and looked to Charlotte.

"You're pretty handy with a rifle. Mind giving me sniper cover?"

Charlotte smirked and checked the charge on the laser rifle, passing it to Sturges as she shouldered the Rangemaster, chambering a round.

"Thought you'd never ask, Captain."

They made their way to the roof, finding the remains of the vehicle in question, Tom noticing the holotape nearby, and with a glance at Charlotte, inserted it into his Pip-Boy and played the last words of Staff Sergeant Michael Daly.

"Personal log. United States Army Staff Sergeant Michael Daly. This past Saturday, October 23rd while en-route to West Stockbridge, our veritbird crashed into the roof of this museum. The cause: EMP following nuclear detonation. Several, in fact. From the intel I've gathered, this was a global event. The co-pilot was killed on impact. Pilot died of his injuries a day later. Day after that, Flaherty and Kanawa were shot by some scared, desperate, survivors. Then Proznanski took off running. Haven't seen him since. Now it's my turn to go AWOL, if that concept even applies anymore. My armor's fusion core is burned out, so I guess my soldiering days are done. I'm heading to Boston, on foot, to see if my sister survived all this. She's got an apartment on Boylston Street. This is Mike Daly, signing off. Good luck. And God bless America. Or what's left of it."

Tom ejected the tape from his Pip-Boy and slipped it into a pocket.

"War never changes," Charlotte muttered softly to herself as she shouldered the rifle.

"I am curious, what he meant at the end."

"What do you mean?"

"His soldiering days being done, just because his power armor stopped working. Think the stress was getting to him more than he let on. The work doesn't stop just because you lose a little armor."

Char blinked.

"Not the words I'd expect from someone who spent the bulk of their military career behind a desk."

Tom frowned, quiet for a moment.

"You have the overwatch, Cover me from here and relocate as needed."

Charlotte silently nodded to him as he stepped forward, inserting the fusion core into the back of the T-45 armor, muttering to himself about why the onboard power source wasn't still active, especially to the point that it had burned out in the Staff Sergeant's lifetime. He reasoned that since it was an older model power armor and the military was more concerned about foreign combat than defending the home front in this area that the tech wasn't up to snuff with what he'd grown accustomed to, and that after 200 years the onboard battery probably still had power, but only enough that it augmented the power of the fusion core. He slammed it home with a closed fist, shrugging off his pack and setting aside his rifle, stepping into the suit as it closed around him, the onboard Heads Up Display activating. He glanced at the power read out and bit back a curse. He'd be on a time limit with this thing until he could find a fusion core with more juice, the one he'd inserted on its last legs. The suit helmet had apparently been modded with a recon sensor, and he programmed the IFF system, watching a green pip appear over Charlotte's head as he tore the mini-gun free from its mounting bracket on the vertibird and stepping forth to the edge of the roof as lightning split the sky and rain began to fall. His augmented voice issued forth from the helmet, Charlotte craning her neck up slightly to look him in the eye.

"Are you ready for this, Mrs. Pine?"

"Absolutely, Captain."

The helmeted figure nodded, a flash of lightning illuminating the power armor and showing off its olive drab paintjob more clearly.

Tom looked down at the approaching Raiders, and jumped off the roof. He landed in a crouch, the resulting impact cracking the damaged pavement beneath his armored feet as he raised the mini-gun and squeezed the trigger, holding his position. Dogmeat held back, watching the power armor clad solider dispense death to all who crossed his path, the periodic shots from Charlotte raining down white hot death on those raiders otherwise too well hidden or protected for Tom to hit, harsh lessons in killing dealt by the two without remorse or hesitation.

Then, of course, everything went to Hell.

A titanic roar the likes of Tom had never heard, and the street in front of him erupted, a large scaly thing rising up from beneath the rubble, fixing its beady gaze on him.

He wasted half a second to wonder what the hell it was before it scooped up a raider corpse and hurled it in his direction. Two steps to his right to dodge, and by then, there was no more time for conscious thought, instinct alone causing him to dump 5mm rounds into the thing's face as it rushed him.

Charlotte watched through the scope of her rifle, horrified, as the creature picked Tom up like a ragdoll, the mini-gun flying out of his hands, and heaving him, the power armor suited soldier slamming into the ground near the entrance to the museum. She opened fire on the creature's head as a distraction as Tom sat up shaking his head. Something was wrong. She fired off more shots, silently willing him to get to his feet.

Tom blinked, tugging at the helmet. The HUD was flickering, the vision flashing static as he pulled the helmet off, glancing at it and dropping it on the ground, noting debris covering it. The damage might not have been as bad as it looked, but he had no time. He looked down and grabbed the nearby laser musket, cranking it as many times as the weapon would allow and charging forward, firing off a single bright shot, hitting the creature in the chest before dashing backward, the creature roaring as its claws dug into the earth where Tom had been moment before. Charlotte had stopped firing, now afraid of hitting Tom as the man turned, and viciously punched the creature in the face, one strike after another as it slammed him to the earth, stomping to try and crush his skull. He rolled out of the way and scrambled to his feet, scowling as the fusion core took that moment to expend the last of its energy. The armor opened up in the back as he ducked out and took off down the street at a dead sprint away from the Museum of Freedom, the creature in hot pursuit as he ran down the street away from the building, trying to lead it away from the civilians. He ducked under a raider that had been hiding in a nearby building, narrowly avoiding a machete strike and going into a slide that would have looked right at home in Fenway Park, ending it with a roll as he came up moving, the overgrown reptile carving a path through the raider to get to him as he reached the end of the street, spun on his heel, and fired off the single shot from the improvised shotgun in his left hand directly into the creature's face, wedging the blade of the massive knife in his right just under its jaw. It gargled out a roar and raised a clawed hand to end him.

The sound of air displacing. Pain. Red. His own scream ringing in his ears. Darkness. Then he knew no more.

Charlotte sighted in on the thing's eye, waiting until it raised its head over Tom to finish him with its teeth, and squeezed the trigger.

A single .308 rounds punched a hole through the creature's right eye and it slumped over as Charlotte slid down one side of the rooftop, her climbing axe slowing her ascent as she dropped to the ground and sprinted to Tom's side, the screams of the others as they exited the building ringing in her ears.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Fallout series.

Okay, on to chapter five!

Reaper frowned at the signal from Rielley, wondering where the rest of the team was, then decided they had other things to concern themselves with, combat knife in hand as he activated the stealth field on the specialized version of stealth armor he wore, the stuff supposedly on par with or better than Chinese stealth tech, lunging forward and slashing the throat of one of the officers. Reilley's voice in his ears clued him in to the location of the target they were there to extract, the fact that one of her Rangers had been moved from the location they thought he'd be troubling to the operative. Only reason they'd move the prisoner was for interrogation, or because somehow they knew the rescue team was there to extract him. Reaper pushed onward, the stealth suit's field flickering a little with the rain. Not enough to deactivate it, but enough to reveal his presence if he wasn't more silent, or were just flat out unlucky.

They never knew he was there until it was too late, the assassin deactivating the suit to reveal the fact that it was covered in light combat armor, ceramic, black, and muffled to be as quiet as possible, the dull gray insignia of a four leaf clover with crossed sabers beneath it on his chest armor. The fellow operative of his team coughed up blood from where he'd taken a bite out of one of his captor's ears, smirking as he relieved the now dead solider of his rifle and sidearm.

"Good to see you, El-Tee. Where's the boss?"

"Waiting on us, Starck. Can you walk?"

"Shit, you get me a beer when we get out of here, I'll damn near dance a happy jig for ya."

Reaper rolled his eyes behind the mask.

"Let's move, we have more to do. I'll take point, cover you from the shadows."

The assassin vanished, leaving Second Lieutenant Starck to make his way out of the Chinese military base, linking up with the rest of Reilley's Rangers, the team's premiere wetworks specialist covering their escape from the darkness.

"Thanks again for comin' after me, Reaper."

"It's what we do."

"Too bad about your current situation though."

"What do you mean?"

Rielley turned to him, blood pouring from the high caliber gunshot wound that had long ago punched clean through both her armor, and her heart.

"You know exactly what we mean, solider. You have work to do. Keep up the fight, and remember, we're still with you."

Charlotte sighed to herself as she carefully made her way through Boston Common, Dogmeat at her side. She'd left Tom in the care of Preston, after spending two weeks hoping the solider would wake up. He'd sent word to the mayor of some town called "Goodneighbor", and a doctor had arrived in Sanctuary as they called her hometown now, someone name Amari, who would help with linking Tom's neurotransmitters up with what essentially amounted to new eyes, courtesy of a mysterious traveling ghoul doctor named Pierce, who only took cases based on personal preference, had access to medical tech most of the Commonwealth had never seen, and apparently owed Mama Murphy a favor. Charlotte had noticed the man always seemed to be staring at her, though Mama Murphy insisted his intentions were out of curiosity, rather than animosity. In due time, the doctor left as quickly and mysteriously as he'd arrived, leaving a set of instructions with Dr. Amari, and a reminder to Mama Murphy that they were even. With Dr. Amari's gentle reassurance that Tom would live through the procedure better than ever save for some scarring, though still on the fence about whether he'd regain consciousness, Charlotte took the time to get herself a meal and left her laser rifle behind with Preston, who promised to "fix it up" for her. It was working fine, so she assumed he intended to make modifications to it. She struck out alone for Diamond City, hopefully to find the next link in the chain leading her to her son.

DO YOU TRULY BELIEVE YOU ARE A HERO? YOU ARE NOT. YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A KILLER. A WEAPON. THEY POINT YOU AT A TARGET AND PULL THE TRIGGER.

"I don't know what's happening, he was fine and then he started shaking, muttering to himself. Something about failing. Couldn't make out what he was saying."

"Damn it, Doctor, isn't there anything you can do?"

"It's out of my hands, whether or not he comes out of this is entirely up to him."

THIS IS NOT THE END FOR YOU. NOT YET. YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR FAILINGS. YOU MUST EARN THE RIGHT TO DIE. WAKE.

Tom's eyes flicked open.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Fallout series.

Chapter six, here we go.

Charlotte groaned as she rubbed her head, blinking and looking around the dingy room. She'd been cooped up here after being jumped by raiders. Some back alley in the heart of the city that had been fortified with barricades. Dogmeat was nowhere to be seen, and she prayed he was alright. The raiders had mostly left her alone, arguing over whether or not to "have fun" with her, or keep her in pristine condition to be sold as a slave. She'd been chained up, and feigned sleep, planning her escape as she took stock of her situation.

She'd been in this place about a week from what she understood, chained to a mattress. Stripped down to her underwear, though thankfully no further, a thin blanket draped over her to keep her mostly warm. The shack she was in looked homemade, the roof metal. She'd heard talk from one of the raiders about a place called Paradise Falls, somewhere in an area called the Capital Wasteland. Judging from the name, she figured it was what D.C. had come to be called in the two hundred years since the bomb dropped. This Paradise Falls place was apparently a massive slave trader compound, and the group of raiders who had nabbed her stood to make a pretty penny off her. They were planning on leaving in two more days to take her there, courtesy of some old pickup truck hidden on the outskirts of the city that one of the more mechanically minded raiders had managed to track down and repair. She'd blanched at that, both at the idea that slavery existed still at all, and at the thought that the moment she reached that place, her son would be beyond hope. She had to get out. She looked around the room, finally having slept off whatever they'd doped her up with, the guy giving her regular injections for the past week probably high out of his mind on his own supply, and they'd all but forgotten about her. She shook her head and glanced at the straps. Taken from an old hospital from the looks of things, they looked like they were equipped with a small lock. She struggled managing to free a bobby pin from her hair, thankful for the first time since she'd been unthawed that she and her husband had been getting ready for an event that required her to look her best. Careful nerve wracking minutes had her finally free, first one hand, and then the other. She silently scanned the room, a cardboard box in one corner causing her to roll her eyes at the stupidity of her captors. They'd left everything behind, though were smart enough at least to unload her weapons. She dressed quickly, strapping on her armor and recovering her gear, annoyed to find that they'd stolen all of her food and water. She drew her knife and silently slipped out of the shack that had been her home for a week, frowning at what she saw. Five raiders, three with 10mm pistols, one with some sort of weapon cobbled together from scrap metal and wood, and one with her own Rangemaster. She narrowed her eyes and waited for opportunity to present itself, opportunity that came in the form of a familiar dog. The raiders looked up at the sound of barking, eyes directed toward the source of the noise.

"Hey, lookie here boys, we got us a dog."

"Let's eat him."

"Fuck you man, I wanna train him up. C'mere, pooch."

Dogmeat cocked his head at the raiders, the expression on his face almost human in that he regarded these people as not very smart. Dogmeat sniffed the air. His friend was here. The first human never knew what hit him as Dogmeat lunged, sinking his teeth directly into the raider's groin, causing the man to scream in agony as Charlotte struck from behind. She'd never killed anyone with a knife before but knew it was her or them. She thought of Shaun. It got easier.

"You loveable doofus, what the hell happened to you!?"

She dropped to one knee and wrapped her arms around Dogmeat's neck, sobbing quietly, tears of relief streaming down her face as the dog reached up and put a forepaw on her back, whimpering sadly. She hugged him tight and pulled away after a few minutes, whispering over and over again that he was a good boy, thanking him for coming after her. Charlotte dried her eyes and stood up, policing the area for any supplies, tucking away the raiders weapons and armor into her pack, recovering what they'd left of her supplies. Twenty rounds of 10mm ammunition, and the Rangemaster hadn't been used at all. There was that weird little pipe pistol the other raider had been carrying, but he'd only had about seven rounds of .45 caliber ammunition on him, and she didn't trust the weapon enough to use it in battle. Sighing, Charlotte headed out, leaving the alley behind as she checked her Pip-Boy's map, striking out once more for Diamond City, her faithful furry companion at her side.

Charlotte approached the gate listening to the dialogue between what she'd assumed was a guard via speaker system, and this…Piper character. She played along with the deception, smirking as they stepped back and waited for the door to open. Charlotte gestured for Piper to walk ahead of her, Piper smirking as she headed forward, a man in a suit and hat waiting for her.

Charlotte's first impression of Mayor McDonough was that he was a complete dick. Her second impression was that with a little effort and a few tears, she could have the man wrapped around her finger.

Revealing what had happened to her son had both Piper and the mayor stunned, and during Piper's rant, Codsworth took the moment to float up next to Charlotte, remaining silent for the time being, until she made a comment about being a fan of freedom of the press.

"And rightly so, Mum, a true medium for the people!"

Piper jumped slightly, Charlotte smirking.

"Cosworth, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I'd thought with the house more readily defended by our new allies, that perhaps I might accompany you for a time."

Charlotte pondered this for a moment and nodded.

"Of course."

"Very well, Mum."

"His name is Codsworth, he's my butler. Listen, is there anyone I can talk to about a missing person's case?"

She blinked slowly, making eye contact with the mayor.

"Surely as mayor of a great place like Diamond City you must know someone who can help me?"

The mayor thought for a moment.

"Well, there is one private citizen. Nick Valentine. A... detective of sorts, who specializes in tracking people down. Usually for debts or whatnot…I'm sure he charges a reasonable rate, and I'm certain he'll be willing to help."

"And what about Diamond City security, MISTER Mayor!? Huh?"

Charlotte turned the Mayor out again, watching his little argument with Piper before he stormed off.

"Color me impressed, I don't think I've seen anyone claw information out of McDonough's tight fisted hands. The name's Piper. Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences Newspaper. Drop by my officer after you're done talking to Nick. I think I just found my next story."

Charlotte smiled softly.

"If you have another one of those hats, I think we have a deal."

Piper chuckled.

"I'm beginning to like you. I'll see you around."

Piper waved and headed back to her office, leaving Charlotte to stand there at marvel at what had happened to the ballpark her husband used to drag her to. The place looked like a shanty town, filled to the brim with shops and houses crafted out of wood, scrap metal, and whatever else people could cobble together. Charlotte blinked and walked forward, barely hearing Codsworth's comment that he'd expected more of the place and that it was civilization "in the rough". The sights, sounds, and smells captivated her attention as she wandered, rolling her eyes as a passing male resident gave her a wolf whistle.

Two hundred years and men still tend to think with the brain in their pants.

She glared at the man and held up her left ring finger, scowling at the man as he mumbled an apology and walked away. She remained silent, simply taking everything in for a time, taking a newspaper from Piper's little sister at one point, learning through snippets of conversation about the shadowy boogeyman known as the Institute. She paused at the noodle stand, Codsworth striking up a conversation with the protectron before realizing that it was damaged. Charlotte continued on while Codsworth stayed, and she caught snippets of the conversation and Codsworth's sympathy for his robot brethren's plight. Wandering over to the weapon stand, she struck up a conversation with the friendly proprietor, a man by the name of Arturo, and traded caps and all of the recovered raider gear for two extra boxes of 10mm ammunition, and seventeen rounds of .308, Arturo apologizing that he was out of laser ammunition. She'd left the rifle back at Sanctuary, so it wasn't too great a loss, but took the time to purchase a switchblade off the man, which she tucked away into a pocket, buying a pair of what appeared to be brown leather driving gloves and heading off with a wave of thanks as she slipped them on over her hands. She then made her way to Myrna's stand to pick up supplies like food and water, giving the obviously paranoid woman as wide a berth as possible after she'd made her purchases, stopping over at the doctor's office to allow the man to give her a once over, the man clicking his tongue in sympathy when she'd told him of her capture by raiders.

"Those raiders are a scourge upon decent people. I am glad you managed to escape."

"I wouldn't have if not for my friend here."

"Dogmeat, nice to see you again. Still adopting new people, I see."

The dog barked a greeting to the doctor, causing Charlotte to arch an eyebrow at him.

"You know him?"

"Dogmeat is something of a fixture in these parts. I had my first encounter with him outside the Wall treating one of our people that had gone traveling. He saved my life."

Charlotte grinned.

"Yeah, he seems to be good at that."

Charlotte had found her way to Nick Valentine's office, arching an eyebrow at the sign outside and the décor, slipping in and introducing herself to Ellie Perkins, Nick's secretary. Upon learning that Nick had gone missing and was possibly kidnapped, Charlotte had cursed under her breath and thought for a moment. If Detective Valentine had gone missing on a child recovery job, chances are he'd run into the folks that took her. She shook her head. She'd need proper backup for this, maybe ask one of the Minutemen for help. First though, she had an appointment with a certain reporter. Promising to find Ellie's boss, she slipped out and headed back to Publick Occurrences, slipping inside and giving a nod to Piper as the reporter motioned toward a couch.

"Any luck finding Valentine, Blue?"

Charlotte blinked.

"Blue?"

"The Pip-Boy and fish out of water look on your face were dead giveaways when I first saw you, even if you aren't wearing the Vault suit right now."

Charlotte chuckled. The lady had a point.

"Nick's missing. Out on a job apparently, his secretary thinks he may have run into some trouble. I'm headed back to the town of Sanctuary Hills to rearm and resupply, maybe drag one of the Minutemen with me to see what can be done to get him back. But first, I owe you an interview."

Piper frowned.

"Nick's a friend. If he's in trouble, I'm coming with you."

"What about your sister?"

"Nat? She'll be fine on her own for a while, she's a tough kid. Now, how bout that interview, huh?"

Wrapping things up, Piper set aside her notes and smiled softly.

"Thank you for that one, Blue. Give me one second, would ya?"

Piper slipped into a back room and after a time came out wearing a set of brown road leathers, her press cap still firmly on her head as she shoved a 10mm into a holster on her right hip and shouldered a messenger bag in brown leather, passing Charlotte a cap like her own, though this one didn't identify the wearer as a member of the Press.

"As promised."

Charlotte grinned and put the hat on her head, spinning slightly.

"How do I look?"

Piper chuckled.

"Gorgeous. Shall we?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Hey, Piper. I…thank you for doing this. Most folks wouldn't."

Piper waved it off.

"I'm not most people."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Piper stayed behind to say goodbye to her sister, Charlotte slipping back out and heading to the noodle stand, taking the time to eat a quick bite before she headed for the gate, Codsworth, Piper, and Dogmeat in tow. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as the group left. Making her way back to the Red Rocket truck stop, Charlotte was amazed to find that both it, and what she could see of Sanctuary Hills were…different. Powered pumps for water, crops of corn and what looked like wheat, and walls surrounding the perimeter, crafted from scrap steel, the roof of the Red Rocket with a scrap metal shack and what looked like a massive set of scaffolding leading up and up and up. Craning her neck she noticed it ended it what appeared to be an observational perch, a broadcast antennae on the roof below. There were guards in military issue combat armor and military fatigues with leather gloves, the armor gray with the logo of the Minutemen on their chests in white, the fatigues in olive drab, all of them wearing the hats common to the Minutemen militia. One of them saluted her and pointed the way to Sanctuary, saying that Preston, Mama Murphy, and "The General" were expecting her. She frowned slightly and thanked the man, walking toward the town, which was looking vastly different, with crops and large water pumps in the river, a large wooden gate and fence seemingly built from scrap metal and wood circling the entire town, and there was the fact that a few new buildings formed from metal had cropped up, and that the small suburb was lit with torches and oil barrels that had been set up at strategic locations, armored Minutemen patrolling along with ten new unfamiliar settlers. They'd been busy in the past week, and it didn't look like they were finished yet.

"All this in one week?"

"Looks like someone lit a fire under the Minutemen's collective behinds. Wonder who this new General is?"

"I think we're about to find out."

Charlotte noticed Preston walking up to them, waving. At his side, wearing the same outfit she'd last seen him in, minus the combat armor stood Tom, a brown leather militia hat similar to the ones worn by…every Minuteman who wasn't Preston it seemed, a pair of mirrored patrol sunglasses over his eyes, and a pair of darkly tinted wraparound goggles stretched around the crown of his hat, dark brown leather gauntlets over his hands, and a bunched off-white silk scarf around his neck, the cloth looking more pristine than she'd come to expect from Wasteland wear, reasoning that it might have been a relic from some soldier he'd known in Anchorage. He had some heavy scarring around the edges of his eye sockets from what she could see, along with three terrible scars raked in deep in a diagonal line across the left side of his face. She frowned slightly as she approached.

"Preston, good to see you again, how are things here?"

Preston grinned.

"Better than ever. The Minutemen have a new commanding officer, more folks working with us, and two new settlements under our protection."

Charlotte looked at Tom.

"Why do I get the feeling you were somehow involved in this?"

Tom shrugged one shoulder.

"Ideas were passed around, conversations were had. I offered up a few suggestions, and now…apparently I'm leading our merry band of Musketeers."

Char chuckled at the joke, though it was clear Piper and Preston didn't get it.

"How are the eyes?"

Tom nodded.

"Not bad. Nice hat, by the way, both of you. I see more now than I ever could, they're…upgraded, but will take some getting used to. Apparently, I have the option to switch between normal human vision, ultraviolet, and something that allows me to see electromagnetic fields at will."

Piper blinked.

"Prove it."

Tom glanced at her.

"Thomas Grimm. Formerly of the US Army. General, Commonwealth Minutemen. You are?"

Piper smirked, offering her hand.

"Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences News, Diamond City."

"Charmed."

Tom bowed slightly, leaning in and kissing the back of her hand, causing her to blush faintly as Charlotte rolled her eyes.

Tom sighed.

"Just promise me you're not going to shoot me in the face. Went to liberate Tenpines Bluff from raider attacks and when I took off my sunglasses I spent ten minutes at gunpoint talking the settlers there down from shooting me."

Tom removed his glasses and Charlotte gasped, Codsworth letting out a "My word!"

Piper for her part blinked once or twice, then smirked.

"Neat. Now, are ya sure you're not a synth?"

Tom smirked.

"Last I checked, Miss Wright. I'll try not to hold the fact you're a reporter against you."

Piper smirked.

"Big scary Army spy afraid of the little reporter?"

"Not exactly, Miss Wright. "Let's just say I've seen firsthand what happens when the wrong information is revealed to the wrong people."

Charlotte couldn't remove her gaze from Tom's new eyes. Jet black mirrored orbs with the pupils and a thin ring around them glowing a faint red.

"Apparently, the eyes glow brighter when I switch vision modes, and naturally adjust to darker environments. The EM function has already come in quite handy for helping Sturges wire this place up. I also don't exactly have tear ducts anymore, but never mind that. The generators powering things around here are largely windmills and fossil fuels, but down the line I'm hoping to get this place under nuclear power."

"You did all this…in a week?"

Tom winked at Charlotte.

"If the next phase of my plan gets off the ground, once it's up and running, give me a couple months, we'll have concrete walls and laser turrets defending this place."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, General. I've received word that another settlement needs our help."

Tom held up a hand for silence as he looked at Charlotte.

"You've been gone a while. Busy week?"

Charlotte frowned slightly.

"You could say that."

Tom's eyes narrowed as he slipped his sunglasses back on.

"Are you alright?"

"I was the…guest of some raiders for a while."

Piper, Preston, and Codsworth immediately began asking after her safety, Tom being strangely quiet as he glanced at Dogmeat for a moment, then back at Charlotte.

"Glad you're alright. I'm betting our friendly four legged badass here had something to do with it?"

Charlotte nodded.

"He distracted them long enough for me to escape, but how did you know that?"

Tom glanced back to one of the old houses where Mama Murphy had told him something similar after the fact.

"Call it a hunch. Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but why are you back here?"

Charlotte frowned slightly.

"We found Nick's office, but…he's gone missing while on a case."

"You came back here to rearm and get some backup."

Charlotte nodded.

"Sturges has been working on a special project in his spare time, something that he thinks will help considerably. That warehouse he rigged up with a rolling metal door over near my place. Keeps it locked up day and night, won't tell us what he's working on. Keeps leaving the settlement for supplies every few days. He told me when you got back that Codsworth should stay behind."

Charlotte blinked.

"Say what now? Why?"

"He didn't say, something about improving him."

Charlotte and Codsworth looked at each other.

"Mr. Sturges has proven himself nothing but trustworthy thus far, and has demonstrated a uniquely qualified knowledge of General Atomics equipment, Mum. Perhaps it is best I remain here for now."

Charlotte pondered this for a moment, before nodding.

"Very well, Codsworth, but if he damages you I'll kill him."

Preston blinked at the sudden flash of venom in her voice. Her time with the Raiders had changed her, certainly made her tougher. All this in a week? But then, she'd already been through a lot since walking out of that Vault.

"We'll take care of getting Nick back."

"But the settlement, sir?"

Tom looked at Preston.

"We have more than enough people staffing both the town and our outpost at Red Rocket that we can spare a few to liberate a settlement from a raider incursion. You're the most experienced field leader I've got, take a detachment and deal with it personally."

Preston frowned.

"As you wish, General. I'll take a few of the men and handle it myself."

Tom nodded and motioned for Piper and Charlotte to follow him into his house. Charlotte glanced at her own house to notice the walls had been repaired and reinforced with steel, wooden shutters over the windows, similar treatment given to every house in the neighborhood that hadn't been used for scrap metal, the foundations left behind occupied by garden plots, a metal building that apparently served as a barracks for non-civilians, and a few other key improvements to the settlement. Stepping inside his house, Charlotte noted with amusement the Deathclaw they'd killed, the head anyway, professionally mounted to a shield shaped bit of polished wood. One of the new residents had apparently had knowledge of taxidermy and spent most of his life creating things for some of the wealthier residents of Diamond City before he'd decided to strike out for Sanctuary. Tom had returned to Concord and beheaded the Deathclaw, having it stuffed and mounted for him, recovering the power armor in the process, which she noted now stood in a power armor bay under the roof of a house with fading yellow paint. The T-45 suit had been repainted from head to toe with a muted gray, the symbol for the Minutemen on its chest in white. Charlotte smirked at this, shaking her head at the soldier's antics. Leading them outside to the toolshed at the back of his property, Tom took the key from the chain around his neck also holding his dog tags. He unlocked the metal door and descended the ladder. The two women followed him into the darkness, the former DIA man flicking a switch on the wall, the dim red lights above the doorways turning off as brighter white lights in the ceiling turned on.

"Whoa! Holy crap, Cap'n!"

Tom blinked.

"Cap'n?"

Piper shrugged.

"Charlotte told me about you when she interviewed for an article I was writing. Her nickname is Blue, cuz of the Vault suits. Since you used to be a Captain, well, y'know."

Tom smirked.

"Do the other Minutemen know about this, Tom?"

Tom shook his head.

"Of course not. Or at least, they don't know how extensive my supplies are. Just in case."

"You're a paranoid bastard, good sir."

Tom nodded.

"Yes. Yes I am, but I am still alive."

Tom disappeared into a small alcove for a few moments, muttering to himself as he came back to his two guests, passing Charlotte a proper set of military fatigues and boots.

"These will fit you more readily than your husband's fatigues, and if you like, I have a sewing kit, so I can put your name tape on the blouse. The boots themselves, like the ones I'm wearing, may look standard military issue, but they're steel toed, though mine are designed to be more silent in step. Miss Wright, something tells me you're not so much a fan of the military, but I have a set that might fit you as well, or I've got some leather armor I collected from some mercenaries a few days ago. They…uh…didn't need it anymore."

Piper let out a low whistle.

"I thought you said this guy was a desk jockey, Blue? This," she gestured at everything with her hand in a sweeping arc. "This is not the work of a desk jockey. This is the work of a career combat vet. Someone with more than just a couple years under his belt."

Piper narrowed her eyes at Tom.

"Someone good at keeping secrets."

Tom stared at her expressionlessly, tossing her a couple of light shoulder pads and leather shin guards.

"Yes, I am. How nice of you to notice," he said with a wink.

Piper smirked.

"Modest and charming, you're quite the catch."

"Why, Miss Piper, are you flirting with me?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes and availed herself of some of his .308 ammunition, getting herself fully outfitted as Tom looked back at her.

"Right, you said Detective Valentine was captured. Details on the case?"

Piper and Charlotte exchanged glances, Charlotte speaking up.

"He was after a gang leader named Skinny Malone. Ellie Perkins, Valentine's secretary, said that these guys style themselves after old world mafia."

"Malone's from Goodneighbor, a town to the Northeast of Diamond City. Pressed suits, body count, fear. Most folks with even an inkling of power there only care about those three things. Weird, since the guy who runs the whole joint is a very upstanding person. Plus he hates McDonough, so he's gold in my book."

Tom and Charlotte grinned at that, Charlotte continuing.

"They're operating out of Park Street Station. Vault Tec built a nearby Vault there that they've converted into a base of operations."

Tom frowned.

"Vault one fourteen. Designed for the upper class citizens of Boston."

"How did you…"

"Let's just say certain folks in the DIA didn't trust Vault-Tec entirely even back in the day, so they asked us to look into some of the Vaults present around here."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed at Tom.

"Did you know about what Nate and I…"

"Not the whole story, but yeah, I knew what you and your husband were in for, same as my side of the Vault, remember?"

The difference between our version and yours, was that the folks in your Vault were part of an experiment. After the All Clear signal was given, and Vault-Tec personnel left one eleven, they were supposed to leave you all there, as Guinea pigs, to see what prolonged exposure to cryostasis would do. As far as we were aware, the experiment had no end date.

"To continue, Vault one fourteen was designed as a social experiment. Marketed as a luxury Vault, it was built from the ground up to be cramped and overcrowded to provide only the most basic amenities. Last I heard though, the Vault wasn't finished, and only one family had actually registered. They intentionally looked for Overseer qualifications involving mistrust of authority, distrust of the government, and violent natures. They wanted an incompetent at the helm. Based on what I've heard about both the first Overseer and Mayor McDonough, Diamond City got the better end of the deal."

Piper visibly shivered as she shook her head.

"I find that hard to believe."

Tom glanced at her.

"The guy they tapped to run the place refused to give them his real name, claimed it was a rank and file stamp issued to him by the government. Called himself Soup Can, apparently, ate out of dumpsters and tried eating Abraxo cleaner just because the directions told him not to."

"…Nevermind then."

Charlotte looked at Tom.

"You never told me, were you the only survivor of your side? Or were you the only one they froze due to being DIA?"

Tom was silent for a long time.

"There were others. Less than there were supposed to be. We're getting off topic. Fighting will be close to mid-range for the most part once we're in the Vault, but there are long straightaways in the subway tunnels that may prove more difficult to tackle with a sidearm. What do we know, if anything, about their defenses?"

Charlotte blinked at the brush off, shaking her head as she refocused, resolving to ask him about it later.

"Um…nothing. Also, there's a possibility Valentine might not be the only hostage. The girl he was trying to rescue might be there as well."

Tom frowned and sighed to himself as he looked at his armory. He pondered things for a moment, grabbing a bizarre looking weapon and checking it over with a nod to himself.

"Tom, what the hell is that thing?"

Tom smirked.

"Based off a design I saw being used by a traveling medical doctor. Apparently he was a veterinarian, used the thing as a way to tranquilize Brahmin, those big two headed cows we've seen roaming around. I took some scrap metal, an old .44 caliber revolver grip courtesy of that trader Carla who stops through every so often, the workings of one of those pipe revolver things I snagged off a raider I killed, an old oxygen tank and a pump and made this."

Charlotte examined the weapon he passed to her. Six barrels, rotating, the central point of the weapon the revolver, a skeleton stock mounted behind the grip, hollow, with the tank inside, what looked like a bicycle pump under the six barrels that were grouped together in circular fashion, along with a forward hand guard. The thing weighed about six pounds, and near as she could tell used compressed air to launch what looked like crossbow bolts, though with substantially more force.

"I call her the Helsing. She won't penetrate heavy armor or robotics, but she's useful for close range wetwork or hunting. I've been keeping the settlers in deer meat for the past several days with this baby, and you can recover the ammo after you use it."

Piper stared at it for a moment.

"Normally I'm against taking a life in all but the most necessary of circumstances but I kinda want one of these."

Tom grinned.

"Thanks for that. If I managed to find the resources, I'll make you one."

He strapped it to the left side of his pack and dug around for a bit, taking Char's pack from her, and side by side with her, emptied her entire pack and refilled it with food and medical supplies to keep her as light on her feet as possible, while still leaving her plenty of room to scavenge for gear.

"We go in quiet, and with luck, once the bad guys know we're there, we'll already be on our way out with Valentine in tow."

"You make it sound like being spotted is a forgone conclusion."

Tom looked back at Charlotte.

"Not me I'm worried about."

At this point, Piper let out an amazed curse, Tom and Charlotte darting over to her location, both with pistols drawn, thinking something had burrowed in.

Piper stood in the bathroom, watching the running water from the shower, one hand flexing fingertips under the water. Charlotte glanced at her silent Pip-Boy, then at the water, then at Tom.

"You have hot water that has no rads."

Tom frowned.

"Now you know why other people don't know about this."

"What else are you keeping from the Minutemen, I wonder," Piper said as she turned around and poked him in the chest. She paused, then did it again.

"Damn Cap'n. Military life was good to you."

Tom lightly swatted her finger away.

"When the time is right and we can turn our focus inward rather than outward, I plan on every settlement in the Commonwealth having access to clean, hot water. For now, like whatever the Hell Sturges is working on, it remains a secret. Do you two understand me."

Charlotte noted that his last sentence had not been a question. She frowned slightly.

Piper paused to think it over.

"On one condition, Cap'n. You let us use it whenever we need to."

Tom frowned.

"Anyone asks, I requested your help with…oh, let's say it's something for the defense of Diamond City, and since the Mayor from what I've heard is a pushy, insular prick, Preston and the others will understand why I came to you rather than him. Anyone has a problem with that, you tell them to talk to me, but you don't mention the real reason to anyone."

Piper and Charlotte exchanged glances.

"You've got a deal, Cap'n."

"I should probably point out that while it is fairly large, there is only one showerhead, so you two will probably need to flip a coin…cap…whatever."

Piper smirked.

"We could just save time and shower together, what do you say, Blue?"

Charlotte stared at Piper in shock, then glanced at Tom and grinned, rolling her eyes slightly as Piper continued.

"We'd need enough soap to make sure we could both get plenty wet and sudsy though, wouldn't we, Blue?"

Tom stood still for a moment, the mental images now assaulting his thoughts giving him pause as he stared at the two women, finally blinking rapidly and taking a breath.

"I…I should see to gathering more supplies. Excuse me."

He turned without a word and walked into the room that doubled as armory and maintenance, closing the thick metal door behind him.

Both women watched him leave, then exchanged glances and laughed quietly.

"That was fun."

"Tell me about it. It does get me thinking though…"

Charlotte looked at Piper in shock.

"Piper!"

Piper grinned lasciviously.

"Hey, a girl can dream. Just because I want his story doesn't mean I can't have a little fun getting it."

Charlotte shook her head slightly as they waited for Tom to come back out, having field stripped his weapons for later cleaning.

"Ahem. Anyway, it's too dark for us to go wandering the wastes tonight, we'll get some sleep and set out at first light. We've still got plenty of room in a couple of the empty houses or Piper can take my bunk upstairs, I dragged in one of those old military beds. Charlotte, we repaired your old queen size as best we could, though for right now it consists of a rough wooden frame and two mattresses pushed together."

Piper smirked.

"So if I'm taking your bed, where are you gonna sleep?"

Tom pointed a finger at the bed in one corner of the room.

"I'll be fine. For now though, if you two are going to grab a shower, I suggest you do so. We have an early day tomorrow, and it will probably be a long one."

Without another word, he wandered back into the armory to begin cleaning his weapons.

The two women watched him leave, Piper looking at Charlotte and grinning.

"Wanna have a little fun, freak him out?"

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head.

"Enjoy the hot water, Piper, I'll grab mine in a bit."

"Aw c'mon Blue, we'd be helping him out by saving water!"

Charlotte snickered.

"It's recycled you lunatic."

Charlotte headed into the armory, knocking on the inside of the door, her eyes wide as she looked around the room.

"Jeeze, Captain, you don't do anything by half-measures do you?"

Tom didn't take his eyes off his work table, where he was applying drops of gun oil to the inside of Black Rose's slide.

"No I don't, Mrs. Pine."

"Charlotte."

"Eh?"

"Call me Charlotte. We killed a Deathclaw together, you've earned the right."

Tom paused, looking up at her and removing his sunglasses.

"Then call me Tom. Oh, and thank you for saving my life."

"You're welcome. I'm going to be out here for a bit, I think Piper plans on taking a long shower."

Tom smirked.

"I kinda figured."

"Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight…Charlotte."

She slipped out and wandered over to the closed bathroom door, putting an ear to it, and then pulling away, blushing faintly at the noises she heard implying that Piper was doing more than just showering, taking a seat on the nearby couch and reading an old Silver Shroud comic she'd found lying around. Several minutes later, Piper walked out wrapped in a towel, the expression on her face one of bliss as she grabbed her leathers and armor, Charlotte shaking her head as she slipped inside to grab a shower of her own.

As everyone bedded down and Sturges disappeared inside what passed for his workshop, life in Sanctuary became quiet, and for several hours, people were able to forget about the fact that they lived in a post nuclear wasteland. For the first time in a long while, there was a calm and peaceful night. Tom shook his head, collapsing on his bed as he set his Pip-Boy on the nightstand, next to his bayonet knife, and his sidearm under his pillow, he muttered a quiet goodnight to all of Sanctuary, his new "command" as he now thought of the Minutemen, wondering what the next day would bring.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Charlotte woke with a stretch, the smell of roasting coffee and bacon causing her eyes to widen. Her hands curled in the sheets as she rolled her neck to loosen a kink, reaching over and grabbing her bathrobe as she wandered into the living room, Codsworth at the kitchen stove cooking, Nate reading the paper.

"Mornin', darlin'. Slept like the dead last night."

She grinned.

"Well, there was a pretty good reason for that."

Nate grinned back.

"Mm. Absolutely. So, let's have breakfast, then maybe we can go catch the game at Fenway today."

"You know I'm not a big fan of sports of any kind."

"I know, hon, but it's the World Series. We'll get to see if you Bostonians finally get rid of that curse or not."

Charlotte paused.

"Wait…the World Series? But…this seems…familiar. I, I should go check on Shaun, haven't heard a peep out of him."

"Oh of course you haven't love."

"Wh..uh, okay. Is he still sleeping?"

"Who knows? Certainly not you."

"What?"

Charlotte froze, the room starting to change, the colors fading, dirt and grim appearing as if by magic, as the paint and indeed pieces of the room itself seemed to peel off like ash from a fire, everything floating up toward the holes that had appeared in the ceiling, a black void beyond. The house looked more ancient, a horrible state of disrepair.

"I think maybe you should hurry. Who knows what kinds of things that guy has done to our son? You know, the asshole who shot me?"

"Language, Master Nathan. I'm certain the lady of the house will be up and about presently."

Nate sipped his coffee, blood leaking out of the gunshot wound in his chest.

"You heard him, time to wake up."

Charlotte shot bolt upright, gasping for breath, her husband's name on her lips as she bit back a sob, sitting in bed for a time, her head in her hands.

Regaining control of herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, shaking her head as she looked around. Oh yes, it was coming back to her now. Nearly everyone she'd ever known had been dead for two hundred years. Husband murdered, son kidnapped. Charlotte resisted the urge to scream at the injustice of it all, reaching for her clothes and gathering her gear. She noted idly that Preston had left her laser rifle and a supply of power cells nearby, the weapon with an overcharged capacitor, an improved short barrel, and a sharpshooter's stock. According to a note left with it, Tom had found a short recon scope from somewhere for it as well. She hefted it, checked the weight, and nodded. Charlotte walked out minutes later into the early morning sun, the light barely cresting the horizon. Codsworth flew up behind her, the volume of his speakers lowered for the sake of the sleeping residents.

"Good Morning, Mum. Your heart rate is elevated. Are you well?"

Charlotte took a breath, her eyes on the entrance to the town, staring at the wooden gate which guarded it from the wastes beyond.

"I'm fine. Nightmare. No big deal. Where is everyone, it's only…"

She checked the time on her Pip-Boy.

"Never mind. They're asleep."

"We should probably get a move on."

Charlotte resisted the urge to jump, Tom behind her, dressed and armored, not a hair out of place, looking like he'd been awake for hours.

"Gah! Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

Charlotte blinked once or twice, then shook her head.

"Uh, never mind."

They turned to look at Codsworth, Charlotte gaping at him, Tom staring impassively, but arching an eyebrow.

Codsworth had been retrofitted with two new arms that looked like they'd come off a salvaged protectron, the right one equipped with a sniper variant laser, and the left with an industrial pincer. He'd also been repainted entirely black, the few rust spots on his body scoured, and he'd been polished until he gleamed. Sitting canted slightly to the left on his chassis was a stylish black bowler hat, apparently placed there through magnets in the brim. His three eye stalks focused on Charlotte as he lightly maneuvered his new arms as if flexing them.

"I see Mum has noticed my new accoutrements, courtesy of Mr. Sturges."

Charlotte grinned.

"And your shiny new paintjob as well. Brilliant. Almost looks like you're wearing a tuxedo."

"That, I suspect, was intentional, given the ancient custom of butlers wearing expertly pressed and tailored suits."

Charlotte looked to Tom.

"…Why?"

"Same reason I had the folks rebuild your house and fix things up best they could. You earned it. Your husband would be proud of you, Charlotte. Now let's go, we've got a rescue operation to mount."

Charlotte followed in something of a daze as Piper caught up to them, Dogmeat in tow. Piper had changed into a set of tight road leathers, the leather armor from Tom on over this as she adjusted her Press hat, moving up to take point and subtly swaying her hips to try to get Tom's attention with a smirk at Charlotte who rolled her eyes and muttered to herself about the woman doing anything for a story. Dogmeat she noticed was sporting a new bandana around his neck in Minutemen blue, the white musket lightning bolt logo plainly visible, and what looked like an old military flak jacket from the days before proper combat armor, this one crafted to fit snuggly around his body, black in color.

"Dogmeat one of the boys now?"

"That's Private Dogmeat, to you, citizen," Tom said with a smirk as she shook her head.

"Wow. Just…wow."

"So, Cap'n. Long walk to Park Street."

Tom nodded.

"Had longer."

"So…"

Tom quirked an eyebrow.

"There a question there, Miss Wright?"

"How about an interview?"

Tom sighed.

The walk to Park Street Station was largely uneventful, minus dodging Super Mutant and raider fire, Piper intentionally leading them the long way around the Boston Common. When asked why, she only said that it was "Swan's place", and Swan didn't like visitors. She was nervous enough that neither Tom nor Charlotte questioned it, instead following the advice of their new friend, soon arriving at Park Street Station, the trio halting outside. Tom dropped to one knee and took up the Helsing, pumping it to the level of pressure required to kill an unarmored target, when informed by Piper that the gang were known only for wearing old world suits, rather than any type of armor, relying instead on numbers, the speed of their automatic weapons, and fear of their reputation to get the job done. Moving slowly, Tom passed suppressors he'd purchased from Carla the trader to Piper and Charlotte, the two equipping their sidearms with them, before they both noticed Tom had vanished into the shadows. Charlotte moved to lead Piper, Dogmeat close behind as they overheard two of the Triggermen gang talking. Charlotte frowned when she overheard one of them talking about Skinny Malone's new girl, and the threat posed of a baseball bat to the face by her. She turned and motioned for Piper to back up.

"Remind me, how old is the girl Nick went after?"

"Ellie never said, why?"

Charlotte frowned.

"I have a bad feeling about this. Let's go, I'll take the one on the left, you take the one on the right."

"Gotcha, Blue."

They turned the corner again, only to find Tom on one knee, plucking metal spikes out of the necks of his targets and replacing them in his pneumatic launcher. He motioned for them to hurry up as he darted off into the shadows again, leaving the two women to exchange glances and keep following. After slow and careful movement they'd made it to the door of the Vault, the two women dispatching two of the guards there with carefully placed headshots, turning to find Tom bashing the skull of the last one into the ground, over and over until the body stopped twitching, Tom standing and slinging his Helsing, drawing his sidearm and carefully clipping his custom suppressor onto the barrel and frame before taking a knee to cover the Vault entrance, his actions mirrored by Piper as Charlotte opened the Vault door, then moved back to drop to one knee as well, the barrel of her pistol downrange at the opening door.

"Why the hell is that damn door always so loud? Who do you think opened it? The guys were supposed to be on guard duty out…holy sh…"

The sentence was never finished, multiple 10mm rounds impacting the bodies of the trio of guards that had come to investigate the noise, the small rescue party entering the Vault. Tom looked down at Dogmeat.

"Stay here, cover the entrance. Anyone who isn't Valentine, or us, tries to leave, don't let them until we show up. Someone tries to shoot you, eat them."

Dogmeat growled softly and stood by the Vault entrance, a look of fierce determination on the animal's face.

Tom shook his head.

"Give me one lousy division of men with even half that dog's loyalty and courage and the War might never have happened at all."

The three of them moved deeper into the Vault, the stairs slowly winding their way further down into the earth. They searched carefully, looking for any sign of Nick Valentine or this hostage of Skinny Malone's, quietly dispatching any threat they came across so as not to wind up in a firefight or get Nick killed in the process. Finally entering a cavernous area that looked mostly unfinished, they headed into another room only to find the entrance blocked off, with a hole in the floor that appeared to drop down at least two levels. Without a word, Tom dropped down, landing in a crouch, pistol up, scanning for threats. Finding none, he turned as he noticed the Vault-Tec terminal and frowned, wondering what information about their location was contained within. Switching his sidearm to his left hand, he bent down and began typing commands with his right. A noise at his back. The slight shift of his head at the last minute. A bullet hole in the terminal where seconds before his head had been. He turned, blade over his shoulder flying through the air, now lodged in the chest of another Triggerman, a ghoul, the knife jutting out like some grisly war medal. He muttered an "All Clear" as Charlotte and Piper carefully dropped down behind him, the two women surprisingly making more noise than he did on his landing, Charlotte's landing a combat roll that would have made Nate proud. She rose up with Tom, Piper following suit as they kept moving, Tom recovering his blade on the move, cleaning it and sheathing it, his pistol back in his hands.

Entering the central area of the Vault, they made their way up the stairs, surprised to hear someone's voice as he talked to a man named Dino, something about a black book and three strikes. Dino seemed…Tom thought scared shitless described it pretty well, the former DIA man vaulting the stairs he'd started to climb and ducking under them, Charlotte and Piper hiding elsewhere. After the man had left, the trio ascended the stairs to spy Nick Valentine locked in the Overseer's office.

"Hey out there, we've got maybe three minutes before he realizes I was just blowing smoke. The terminal is on the wall. I hope one of you three is good with computers!"

Tom holstered his sidearm and calmly cracked his knuckles, stepping up to the computer and examining it for a moment, telling Piper and Charlotte to cover him, holding back a smile when Charlotte took a knee, her pistol at low ready in a two handed grip. Pipe had taken up a position near the stairs, having swiped one of the submachineguns off an earlier kill. In moments the door was open and Tom stepped into the room, Charlotte maintaining her position as Piper dashed in with Tom, much to his eternal annoyance.

"Nick!"

"Piper, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We came to rescue you, Nicky!"

Nick frowned, looking at Tom and giving him a once over.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but what's a professional mercenary doing chasing down a broken old private eye like me?"

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Mister Valentine, I am many things but a mercenary is not and never has been one of them. I am a soldier."

Nick blinked as he lit up a cigarette, the cherry glowing between metal fingertips as he took a drag.

"Charlotte?"

"Still clear."

"Get in here."

Charlotte walked in and stared at Nick for a moment.

"I…what are…"

"Stay on point, Charlotte, questions later," muttered Tom quietly.

"Right. I'm the reason we're all here, Detective. Someone has murdered my husband and stolen my child."

Nick frowned.

"Commonwealth is a dangerous place at the best of times, but your friend there is right, we need to get while the gettin's good. C'mon."

Tom paused for a moment, digging out an N99 he'd recovered from a dead Triggerman, passing it and two spare magazines to Nick. Nick accepted them with a nod and the group moved out.

"What about the girl you were here to rescue?"

"It was a trap. She's Skinny Malone's new main squeeze, and if anything she's crazier and meaner that he is! His name is…uh…ironic, but don't think for one moment that makes him any less dangerous."

Tom frowned.

"Gangsters are all alike, best when cooked well."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow.

"Throw a lot of scumbags in prison as a hobby when you weren't decoding Commie messages?"

Tom shrugged one shoulder.

"Man's gotta have a hobby."

Nick blinked.

"Commie messages?"

"Like I said, later."

The group fell silent after that, sneaking back toward unfinished cavern to find two more men, Dino behind them muttering about how Nick had pulled a fast one on him.

"How do you wanna play this? Hard and fast or clean and quiet?"

Tom didn't bother dignifying the question with a response, calmly walking straight out, and with a combination of one handed head shots and throwing knives dispatched all three men without a sound, recovering his blades as he kept walking without even breaking stride.

Nick glanced back at Piper.

"Piper, who exactly is this guy?"

"That could take some explaining, especially since it's becoming increasingly obvious he's been lying to the both of us from the start about who he is, Detective."

Nick frowned as Tom kept moving. Charlotte was suddenly taken by surprise, having fallen behind to guard the rear, a Triggerman swinging a bat in her direction. She rolled her shoulder into the blow to take it on her armor, the shock causing her to drop her pistol, looking around frantically as he wound back for another swing. She looked down and grabbed a nearby pipe wrench, lashing out with a sideways strike to the man's temple, connecting and knocking him to the ground as she dropped to one knee beside him and brought the wrench down on his skull five more times before he stopped moving, bashing him once more for good measure before she dropped the wrench and took up her pistol, muttering to herself as she caught up with the others, explaining what had happened. Nick made a quip about her throwing a monkey wrench into the triggermen's plans, causing all of them to snicker a little at that, the quartet soon making their way back to the Vault entrance.

"I hear big fat footsteps on the other side of this door. Shouldn't take me too long to get it open, but once I do, be ready for anything."

Tom swiftly unclipped his suppressor from his sidearm, holstering it and bringing his rifle up to his shoulder, a nod to Nick.

"Let's do this."

The door opened and they were greeted by four figures. Two Triggermen with submachineguns pointed at them, a young woman holding a baseball bat, and a rather portly man in a tuxedo with a fedora on his head.

"Nicky, whaddaya doin'? You break into my house, shoot up my guys, do you have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often."

"Aww…Poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beaten up by a girl? I'll just run home to Daddy, shall I?"

"Shoulda left it alone, Nicky. This ain't the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I'm the king of the castle, you hear me?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed at the girl with the bat. She didn't know the whole story, but she could guess, and she knew she didn't much care for this stupid kid pretending to be a gangster.

"I aint lettin' some private dick shut us down now that we finally got a good thing goin!"

"I told you we shoulda just killed him! But no, you had to go and get all sentimental, all that stupid crap about the old days!"

Tom frowned. This girl whined too much.

"Listen."

His voice was quiet, like the whisper of Death.

Everyone stopped at that and stared at him.

"Killing stupid kids with delusions of playing cops and robbers is not something I've ever done, nor God willing, ever will do. Leave. RIGHT. NOW."

"I knew it! Valentine musta brought these people in to rub us out!"

Skinny stared at Piper for a moment.

"Don't know about the other two, but she's a reporter. Hardly a threat. This guy though…"

Tom scowled.

"We need Nick to help us with a case. My friend here, her son was kidnapped. Less than a year old. You may be a gangster, but you've got honor. If you didn't you would have tried to kill us already."

He looked at Darla.

"And you, Missy. If I wanted you dead, there'd be nothing but corpses on the ground in front of me. The fact you're still breathing is evidence to the contrary. We are leaving. You want to stop us? Try."

Skinny blinked in utter shock, Piper and Charlotte staring at Tom like he'd grown a second head. Nick looked like he was about to short circuit. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that the last sentence had been delivered in a tone that spoke only of boredom and disappointment, like a parent speaking to an unruly child.

"…Out of respect, Nicky. You've got just ten seconds to clear this place. I still see your faces when I hit eleven you all…"

Tom had already started walking, followed by Piper and Charlotte, Piper quipping as she passed.

"Yeah, yeah, we heard ya."

Nick stood there for a moment more in disbelief, finally turning to Darla.

"Your parents are worried. Drop them a note at least, yeah?"

The quartet walked out of Park Street Station without a word, Dogmeat joining them once they'd left.

"You called me your friend."

Tom smirked at Charlotte.

"We killed a Deathclaw together."

Charlotte grinned at him, Piper speaking up next.

"Heeey, Cap'n?"

"Hm?"

"Just how big are your balls, anyway?"

Tom blinked.

"…You asking for your readers?"

His voice dropped an octave, smokier, huskier.

"…Or for yourself?"

"Uh. Well that…um…"

Piper blushed and walked forward, taking point again. Tom chuckled softly and looked at Charlotte.

"Payback's a bitch."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Unfortunately circumstances were not on Charlotte's side, as, after a tearful reunion with his secretary, Nick had "gone to sleep", shutting down for lack of a better description. According to Ellie, this happened from time to time, but she promised to send word to them the moment he woke up. Likely whatever injuries he'd incurred would need repairing, and if his internal software had been dinged up, he'd need to go into sleep mode to fix the problem. Charlotte had to be gently pulled away by Piper and Tom, holding back tears at the unfairness of the hand she'd been dealt. To compound the issue, Dogmeat had vanished without a trace minutes after they'd arrived in Diamond City, but they figured he'd show up eventually. The three companions were sitting in the Dugout Inn, taking slow sips of Boborov's Best moonshine as Piper regaled the duo with tales of the time the moonshine still had saved her life due to an attempted poisoning.

"…so then I just start chugging moonshine! I'm still not convinced that it wasn't any better than just letting the poison kill me, but it worked and I'm still here."

She shrugged, Tom smirking.

"You've led an interesting life, Piper."

"Heh, not half as interesting as some of the things we've gotten up to since I started paling around with you two. Hope it never ends."

"Me either," Tom said with an easy smile. "I like having you close."

"Wow, Cap'n. Uh…that's…uh…I mean, sweet and all, and unexpected, but uh…y'know not in a bad way, is it hot in here? Do you want another drink? I'm gonna get another drink!"

She stood up and practically sprinted to the bar, Tom biting back a laugh.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"Quit that."

"Not my fault she's so easy to rile up. Besides, she keeps pestering me for an interview, I'm gonna make her work for it."

"Oh just give her the interview, you ass."

Tom shrugged.

"We'll see."

He nudged Charlotte's shoulder.

"Hey. We'll find him, alright? Nick will be back soon enough."

"I know. I just…if he gets captured again…"

"Then we'll go get him. Again. Just try to relax and enjoy your drink. We'll head back to Sanctuary, you'll get to sleep in your own bed, get a hot shower, everything is gonna be fine."

"I hope so, Tom. I hope so."

Tom knocked back his drink, listening to the barkeep regale his guests with stories of a "Mirelurk" attack. Mirelurks, he explained to Charlotte, were mutated shellfish that came up from the seashore to attack people from time to time. They'd overheard the barkeep's brother as he ran in shouting about something, interrupting the story. Tom figured it was probably something about a deal gone wrong. Money was at the heart of it, he was sure. He cocked his head, listening to the harshly whispered Russian and nodded to himself. The bartender noticed Charlotte then and motioned her over. She exchanged glances with Tom and walked over, leaving the former solider to drink alone, his eyes flitting around the room.

Tom sighed and checked the time on his Pip-Boy as he ran over the details of the plan he'd been roped into once again. The local tape jockey for Diamond City Radio, a bootleg pirate radio station set up inside the city that played old prewar tapes and told interesting news about the Wasteland, needed help. The guy in question was a sweet but apparently mild mannered fellow by the name of Travis Miles, who had the hots for the waitress in the Dugout Inn, Scarlett. Vadim had begun by asking Tom to simply kill Travis, to improve the quality of Diamond City Radio, and Tom had responded with such a scathing stream of barely audible Russian that it left both brothers shaking, even though the man's anger had only been directed at one of them. When it had come to light Vadim had been joking, Tom got quiet and completely still, finally asking in Russian again what they would have done if he'd carried out the hit, both men looking sheepish at that. Tom had to resist the urge to grin as Piper threatened to put Vadim through a wall, but eventually even her hot temper was cooled down enough to get on with business.

The "brilliant" plan by Vadim involved a staged bar fight to give Travis a much needed confidence boost to ask out the girl in question. When Tom had quipped that he'd never met anyone he couldn't lay out, Piper had said that while she certainly believed it, she laughed and said that of course it had no doubt been in self-defense every time. Tom had sighed at this, responding that while he'd never harm an innocent if he could help it, being in a war zone didn't always give him that option. She had recoiled for a moment, but noticing the pain in his posture had resolved to ask him about it later, promising to give him the benefit of the doubt. The look of relief she'd given him when he'd continued by stating that he wasn't a thug for hire gave him hope that their budding…friendship, or whatever it was wouldn't be permanently damaged, and he focused his attention more on the matter at hand.

Tom had the opportunity to strike up a conversation the day before with a mercenary, noting that while the man obviously thought well of himself and was certainly no civilian, the way he held himself spoke of arrogance and assuming that he cast a larger shadow than he did. Tom did not think for one moment the man would be a problem. He would be one of two men Vadim had hired to lean on Travis, pick a fight with him. Hopefully, a few words of wisdom from Tom and some subtle backup, and Travis would fight back, "win" and have some newfound confidence. In theory.

Tom checked his Pip-Boy again as he spotted the other merc enter the bar, the two mercenaries nodding at each other as they spotted Travis. Tom shifted his position slightly on the couch and watched them. They started in on the act, shoving him lightly as they claimed his radio station sucked, that they'd take him off the air permanently. Tom rolled his artificial eyes, straightened his sunglasses and shrugged off his pack as he walked up to Travis.

"Hey pal."

Travis resembled nothing so much as a frightened bunny rabbit, his eyes darting from side to side, every inch of his body giving off the language of one who had been walked over and abused his entire life, shoulders hunched, arms curled about himself protectively, shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. For once, Tom felt the hard exterior given to him by training and the fires of war crack. He'd had a guy like that in his ROTC unit, some wet behind the ears kid smacked around by his stepfather, who'd joined the military not just to fight commies, but to try and earn the man's respect who'd made his entire life a living hell to that point. Tom had worked with the poor kid day in day out for months until he went home on leave for Christmas his senior year, and broken his stepfather's jaw when the man had gotten drunk and slapped his mother around. Tom forced himself not to wince as the memory came back. They'd shared a foxhole together in the desert. The kid had died in his arms from a Chinese bullet, words of thanks on his lips for Tom.

Travis was blubbering like a baby to himself about this being why he didn't go out in public and just wanted to be left alone.

Screw it, the kid needs my help.

"Travis."

"Y…yeah? Who..who're you?"

Tom felt the eyes of Piper and Charlotte on him, the two women situated away from the conflict, though both in a position to offer ready assistance. At the subtle motion of a fingertip, as they agreed, Piper approached. She knew Travis after all, in a way, they were both in the news business. If she was honest, she liked the kid, but thought he needed to grow a backbone.

"I'm a friend, Travis. My name is Tom. Look kid, you need to stand up for yourself, don't take any shit from these losers. I'll help."

"No! I…I mean, no, that…that would be…would be bad. With these men…it could…it could turn violent!"

"Don't you want them to stop?"

"Well…yeah, but…"

"Then you need to make them stop," Piper interjected with a smile at him.

"Lady has a point, kid."

"No, it's…I can just deal with it."

"C'mon Travis, you don't want to live like that," Piper said again as she squeezed his shoulder supportively.

"Don't be such a coward, kid."

Travis clenched his fists, glaring at Tom.

"I'm not a coward!"

"Then prove it, little baby," muttered the leather-clad merc, the man's name Bull, if Tom remembered right.

Travis shifted his attention back to Bull, Piper smirking.

"That's it, Travis, let out the beast!"

Tom arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing, responding to Travis instead.

"If we work together…"

"We're right behind you, Travis."

Travis muttered something to Bull, the man laughing at him.

"You say somethin', small fry?"

"I said…I said leave me alone!"

Bull laughed at him.

"Heh, look at you. Lemme think about it for a second…nah, I don't think so."

Travis paled, a quick side-eye glance to Piper, who gave him a thumbs up with both hands.

"I…I mean it! Leave me alone!"

Bull narrowed his eyes, taking a step toward the younger man."

"Sounds like you were thinking about saying or else! Were you gonna say "or else", Travis? I'm wonderin' what comes after that. What're you gonna do, little man?"

Travis glanced over to Tom, who gave him the slightest of nods.

"I'll…I'll beat you up!"

"Big mistake, Travis. I'm gonna destroy you, and your friend here."

Travis recoiled as Bull punched him, the other merc engaging Tom, the war veteran leaning into an incoming strike and setting his jaw, intentionally taking a shot he could have easily avoided with a grimace, hoping this plan worked. He didn't like having to take a punch slow enough he could have seen it coming a mile away. Normally he'd step inside the swing, catch the man's arm and snap it in four places before taking out his knee, forcing him to the floor and bashing his skull into it before choking him into unconsciousness or snapping his neck as the situation required. Instead he blinked and staggered back, shaking his head as though the strike had nearly knocked him out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Travis wildly swinging at Bull, screaming, Bull taking the strikes and selling the deception as best he could. The man was a better actor than he was a fighter, but from what Tom had seen, that wasn't saying much. He returned focus to the other merc as a beer bottle sailed across the room and caught the man in the head, Travis coming to Tom's "aid", after the beer bottle thrown by Charlotte. The fight was ended fairly quickly after that, with both men vowing revenge and storming out of the bar to lick their "wounds."

Travis laughed slightly, looking at Tom.

"We did it! I…I can't believe we did it!"

Tom smirked.

"How do you feel now, kid?"

"I…I don't know! I mean, wow…just, wow! I mean, I never thought I could do anything like that! That was crazy! …Wow. Hey...listen…I uh…thanks. That was really something! I…I think maybe I should go lie down now."

Travis shook his head and quietly made his way out of the bar, Tom waiting until he left before he allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

Maybe he'll find his courage now.

"Hah! Excellent! I knew that would work! Now, time for next part of fool proof plan!"

Tom glanced at the bar and eyed Vadim as he adjusted his sunglasses, approaching as Vadim poured him a shot of moonshine, Tom asking his next question in flawless Russian.

"Whose skull do I have to crack now, comrade?"

Vadim noted Charlotte and Piper approaching and shook his head, switching back to English.

"Nyet, is not like that. You have seen Scarlett, yes? She has worked here for some time. Now, I am just simple bartender, but I see things. I see how Travis looks at her. And I see that sometimes, she looks at him. If someone who was not her employer suggests that she go spend some time with Travis, it might do him some good."

Tom and Charlotte exchanged glances, Charlotte smirking at Tom.

"I could have a chat with her."

Vadim grinned.

"Yes I know, this is why I am telling you. Just do whatever it takes to have her have a chat with Travis and this is all worth it."

Charlotte glanced back at Tom with a smile.

"No offense, but some things require a woman's touch, and girl talk is easier without the menfolk around. Go grab some noodles or something and I'll catch up."

Tom smiled and bowed out, quietly asking Piper if he wanted to join her.

"Normally I'd love to Cap'n, but Blue might need a bit of help on this one. Stick around the noodle stand and we'll find you later."

Tom pondered this for a moment and nodded, collecting his hat and slipping quietly out of the bar, tipping the brim of said hat in Yefim's direction as he left, pausing to examine the nearby bounty board and plucking a bounty from it as he slipped out.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Wandering for a while, Tom paused at the noodle stand and ordered a bite, sitting there and eating the noodles in silence for a time, perusing the transcript of Piper's interview with Charlotte in its entirety with a shake of his head.

"View from the Vault", huh? …Nice title. Let's see here.

Whenever I take a walk through Diamond City, there are so many things people tell me to be grateful for. Purified water, working lights, electricity, security. True, what we have would have been unthinkable even a few decades ago. But it's easy to forget that, even after all the progress we have made, we are still living in the shadow of the world that was. A world before the threat of radiation. Before the Super Mutant and the Feral Ghoul and the synth.

So, as fortune often has it, I crossed paths with her. A Vault Dweller. A person who is experiencing the Commonwealth for the first time. What would her fresh set of eyes say about how far we've come? Is Diamond City the "Great, Green Jewel" we have always claimed it to be?

Before we begin to answer that question, we have to know who she is. Where she comes from. In speaking to her, she stressed that her time inside the Vault was normal. But what is normal for a Vault? This reporter knows that life behind the sealed gear doors of a Vault-Tec facility is supposed to be a bastion of the old world. A preservation of life before the bombs.

Tom paused, sipping from his canteen.

"Sneaky, Charlotte. Sneaky."

So what does Charlotte Pine have to say about seeing Diamond City for the first time?

"Honestly, seeing everyone surviving out here? Rebuilding the world? It gives me hope."

Hope. When was the last time someone in our city talked about hope who wasn't some politician fishing for points in the next election, making empty promises at the Wall? But our outsider hasn't let the cynicism of our strange world get the better of her.

This is all the more remarkable because of the reason Mrs. Pine came to the Commonwealth. You see, she has a son. Shaun. And even though they were in the relative safety of a Vault, someone broke in, and took Shaun from his parent, and that parent is now risking everything - wandering through this strange and unfriendly world of ours - in order to save Shaun from his kidnappers.

We all know the rumors and whispers that surround every missing person in Diamond City. The guilty looks we pass to mourning family members as we "thank the Wall that, this time, it wasn't us." You can end up dead in the Commonwealth for a million reasons. Why spend our time worrying about kidnappings?

Why, indeed.

Tom nodded thoughtfully. Hope was a tough thing to hold on to. Especially with everyone she'd known dead for two hundred years. He respected her all the more for her view, and silently vowed to see her son returned to her.

It's easy for us to be cynical about the missing. We have spent so long knowing the Institute is out there, but knowing so little about them. They are not the only ones responsible for kidnappings, but the fact that they sometimes are, and the fact that we have been so powerless to stop them when they do, causes us to treat all victims of kidnappings as if they are a lost cause.

But the people left behind, those loved ones, friends, and neighbors who may never see the faces of those taken from them again, they do not have the luxury of being able to just look away. They have to carry that lost with them, even if everyone else tells them to move on and forget.

"Find who's responsible, and make them pay," said Charlotte. "Simple as that."

End

Tom frowned slightly. Mama bear she definitely was. Whether her time as a "guest" of the raiders had contributed, he didn't know, but the lady had a mean streak. He folded the interview and tucked it away, intended to find a way to frame the copy and set it somewhere in her home for her, as a reminder to keep fighting, to not give up. He tucked his canteen back into his pack and shouldered it before he slowly strolled out to the edge of the Wall, noting an older man examining it and muttering to himself as he examined a paintbrush. Tom leaned in closer to see what the man was doing, the old man turning to stare at him.

"Don't touch the paint."

Tom blinked, craning his neck to the left to look over the man's shoulder and note the wet patch on the wall.

"Why paint it?"

"This is the Wall. The great green guardian that keeps out the bad guys. No one's broken through the Wall. Never. Least we can do for her in return is keep her looking pristine. Thinkin' you need a little education. Maybe a bit of community service. What do you say?"

Tom pondered this for a moment. It would help if folks saw the General of the Minutemen doing a bit of community service, build contacts that would allow him to more easily defend settlements and populate new ones so he could get on with his original mission of trying to locate whatever remained of the federal government.

"What do you need done?"

"Y'see this paint I'm using? Only one place left in the whole Commonwealth you can get it. Hardware Town. Ruined shop close by to the west. Bring back a can of paint, and it'll be a hundred caps in your pocket. How's that sound?"

Tom thought this over.

"What can you tell me about the place? Any useful information?"

"Raiders moved in a ways back, security says they can't handle it. Can you help me out?"

"Paint retrieval. I'm on it."

"Much obliged."

Tom tipped his hat to the man and quietly slipped out of Diamond City. He'd catch up with Charlotte later.

Heading toward the ruined shop he spotted a young woman dressed in torn dirty clothes, looked like jeans and a red flannel shirt, she motioned frantically to him and screamed out that her friend was inside the shop and hurt. Tom narrowed his eyes as he noted the tattoos so common to raider ilk snaking down her neck, sliding beneath her shirt along the curve of her cleavage.

"What happened to your friend?"

The woman shook her head, mentioned that her friend was hurt again, and ducked inside.

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes, drawing his sidearm as he slipped inside. Purposely walking into the ambush he knew was there, he strolled nonchalantly toward the back of the store and in a snap of movement, fired two rounds, one catching a raider in the left eye, and one catching his partner in the throat. Continuing on he paused and went into a combat roll as a baseball bat swung through the air formerly occupied by his skull. He spun and lashed out with a kick, taking out another raider at the right knee, the man screaming in pain as he went down, Tom pointing his Colt at the man's temple and squeezing the trigger gently. He rose and scooped up the bat in one hand, heading down a large ramp made by fallen debris, biting back a curse at the pile of stripped bodies that had been left to rot, no doubt after the raiders had robbed them of anything of value. Hurling the baseball bat end over end, he watched as it sailed through the air and connected with the skull of another raider, another shot taking another one by surprise. He walked up to the first raider, holstering his sidearm as he picked up the bat, the raider at his feet muttering curses and something about Tom's mother being a whore.

"Never. Talk. About Mom that way."

Tom raised the bat. The raider screamed.

Charlotte and Piper spotted Scarlett sitting at a nearby picnic table and approached, taking seats nearby.

"Hey, Scarlett, right?"

Scarlett smiled tiredly at the two women, nodding to Piper.

"Hey Piper. And you're…Charlotte, right? I'm on break right now, but what can I help you girls with?"

"Actually sweetie, we wanted to talk to you about Travis."

Tr..Travis. Oh. Did…did he mention me? I heard about the fight. He was very brave."

Charlotte watched the younger woman's body language. The flip of the hair, avoiding eye contact, and the faint blush on her cheeks were all big giveaways that she liked the young man.

"Yes, he was. I think he's gotten better. Not that there is anything wrong with being shy. He likes you, you know."

Scarlett began turning the color of her name, Piper smiling as she leaned in and gently squeezed the young woman's hand, Charlotte smiling warmly at her.

"You should go talk to him."

"I mean, I definitely noticed him. Maybe…no, I couldn't just go over there."

Charlotte smiled a little wider.

"Look, Travis is a nice guy, and believe me, those don't grow on trees. …Not much grows on trees around here from what I've noticed, actually."

The three women grinned at that as Charlotte continued.

"I can tell that you like him, and I'm fairly certain that he likes you, he's just afraid to show it. You know how fragile men are, you have to treat them like fine china or else they get all huffy and close mouthed."

Piper and Scarlett stared at her.

"…What's fine china? You have to treat them like the folks who nuked everyone?"

Charlotte blinked, slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment.

"Er…nevermind. Just go talk to him, sweetie. The worst thing he can say is no, and I don't think he will."

Scarlett sat in silence for a moment, finally looking up and nodding, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Alright, I will. I'll go see him right now."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Tom returned to the entrance of Diamond City, pausing long enough to light up a cigarette. Black wrapped cigs with a single silver line to denote where the filter was. These were straight from China. He'd made off with several cases of them when last he was there, and he took a moment to light one with his Zippo, taking a slow drag, the opium and other herbs taking the edge off the few hits the raiders had managed to land. He stood there in silence for a while as the rain began to fall, marveling at what a complete and utter shithole Boston had turned into. Frowning, he finished the cig and tossed it away, soon locating the old man again, who he'd learned from passersby was named Abbot.

"How bout it kid, got my paint?"

Tom resisted the urge to laugh at being called kid by someone he had a century on, at least, nodding.

"Yes sir. Wasn't easy, but I found some for you."

Abbot grinned.

"Now that's damn fine news. Why don't you go ahead and paint the first stroke. Let's see how the shade matches up."

Tom set the paint can down that he'd wrapped in an old towel to keep it from staining the inside of his pack, dipping the brush in and painting a broad swatch on the wall. Abbot rubbed his moustache thoughtfully, silent for a few seconds.

"Mmmhmm. That's a good shade of green. The Wall sure seems happy with it."

Tom's eyebrows rose at that but he avoided shaking his head at the old timer's antics.

"Think that's enough to last you?"

"Eh, should be good for a coat or two. It'll last a while. Now, your reward, plus a bonus for getting a good shade."

The old man held out a small pouch of caps, Tom shaking his head.

"Keep it. On behalf of the Commonwealth Minutemen."

Abbot blinked.

"Didn't think you boys were still around. I remember the old days. Before Quincy. Heard they got themselves a new general."

Tom bowed slightly.

"You're looking at him. You take care, sir."

Tom tipped his hat and left the astonished old man behind, smiling as he noted Charlotte and Piper…running toward him with worried looks on their faces. His smile slipped.

"…What happened?"

"Vadim was kidnapped. Travis may possibly know where. The guys he hired, Bull and Gouger, he didn't have the money to pay, so they grabbed him and fled."

Tom frowned.

"And security just…let them go?"

"He was outside the wall on a supply run for the bar, apparently."

Tom growled and pulled his sidearm from its holster, performing a brass check and shoving it back in, the trio heading for Travis's trailer. Tom was first through the door, right as Travis had put on another song.

"I'll get right to it, Vadim has been kidnapped. Bull, that asshat who tried to pick a fight with you did it."

"That's..that's not funny!"

"No Travis, it isn't. I'm not joking."

Travis laughed nervously and paused.

"Wait…what? This is…this is because of what happened isn't it? This is my fault."

Tom frowned.

"What does it matter whose fault it was?"

Travis looked at the floor, his voice quiet.

"I guess it doesn't matter. But getting him back does."

Piper frowned, uncertain.

"You're right…but…you really think you're up for this?"

"Travis, sweetie, this could be really dangerous," Charlotte said with a nod at Piper.

Travis sighed, rubbing at his face, muttering that it was his fault.

"Travis, don't do that to yourself. All we can do now is figure out how to make this right," Piper said as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Look, I don't…I don't have a lot of friends. If Vadim is missing, or in trouble or…whatever, then I'm gonna help get him back."

Tom exchanged glances with the two women.

"You really think you're capable of doing what needs to be done, kid?"

"You're…talking about…killing people, aren't you? If…if that's what it takes…then yes. I've heard enough to know they're probably holed up at the old Bean Town Brewery. We've gotta go in there, show them we mean business and…and then we can bring Vadim back and everything will be okay, right? Arturo said he owed me for talking about his store on the radio. I'll get a gun, and I'll meet you there."

Tom frowned and motioned for the two women to step out with him.

"You two stick with him and make sure he gets there in one piece. As scared as he is, Vadim is one of his only friends, near as I can tell, and if we leave him behind, he'll probably try to follow us anyway."

"Wait, Cap'n, what about you?"

Tom adjusted his sunglasses.

"I'm faster on my own. I'll meet you there."

A nod to both women and he was already headed for the exit.

They'd been walking for about two hours, quietly discussing what they intended to do once there, Piper suddenly asking Charlotte exactly how she knew Tom.

"Well, we were neighbors, and he fought alongside…alongside my husband during the Anchorage Alaska campaign before the bombs fell."

Charlotte swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought of her husband. Piper rubbed her shoulder, a sympathetic smile on her face before Charlotte shook herself out of it and explained hers and Tom's origins to Travis, who stared at her wide eyed for a bit, but remained silent on the topic, the trio making their way onward as Charlotte continued.

"Like you though, I suspect Tom has not been entirely honest about his work. He's more than just a DIA man, he fights…well, better than that. He fights like someone used to it, like someone who has made a career out of being in combat twenty-four seven, not just information gathering. He hasn't mentioned any family, so I'm not sure what the story is there."

"He seems…lonely. He hides it well, but he seems worse off than you."

"In some ways…I think he is. Being the new general of the Minutemen seems to have put a spring in his step though."

"Wait, he's the General of…of the Commonwealth Minutemen? I'd heard they were back, but a new General?"

Charlotte nodded at Travis.

"Yeah. And for a guy who claims he works best alone, he is good at it. Like, scary good. He had Sanctuary Hills more or less lit up, new buildings built, and says that given enough resources and a couple months more he'll have proper walls and turrets defending the place branching out into other settlements."

"Not too shabby for a guy who claims to be a desk jockey."

Tom frowned and approached the raider. Quiet as a whisper he darted forth, kicking the man's right leg out from under him, slipping an arm around the man's throat and silently choking him into unconsciousness…then continuing to apply pressure until the subtle pop alerted him to the fact that he'd broken the man's windpipe. He dragged the corpse backward into the scraggly bushes and gently eased it to the ground, tucking caps, ammo, and chems into his pack as he stepped forward, blade in hand, his pack temporarily left behind. As the rain fell steadily, Tom slipped his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his fatigues, gleaming red eyes narrowing on the other raiders at the small camp. Reminded of a time in the desert, he idly mused on the past, allowing himself to be taken back more than two hundred years to a particular mission.

Reaper sighted in on his target with the sniper rifle, listening to Starck call out windage and elevation.

"Three right, one up."

Reaper made the corresponding adjustments to the scope, crosshairs settling on the head of the hapless sentry.

"Hey Reaper, you ever think about the work we do? I mean, from a psychological standpoint, what the commies think of us? Word is they've given you a nickname. "Xuanlong", they call you. "The Black Dragon". Think you're some kinda spirit, come amongst them to punish the wicked."

Reaper narrowed his eye and gently squeezed the trigger, ending one life as he sighted in on another.

"Maybe I am."

Another squeeze of the trigger, and the duo relocated. The rest of Reilley's Rangers already moving out to enter the camp, the ramshackle set up a home to one of the elite Crimson Dragoon units of the Chinese military, these wearing modified stealth suits that were colored a sandy brown. Reaper activated the camouflage systems of his own stealth suit, the telltale shimmer the only sign as he and Starck moved, both men grabbing their knives as the joined their compatriots, the Rangers slipping in and doing what needed to be done. Reaper suddenly darted to the right and blocking an overhead sword strike with his knife, the impact causing he and his opponent's stealth fields to shimmer more noticeably for a moment. He moved again, ducking under his opponent's blade…

…burying his knife blade home into the raider's left side between the ribs, Tom jerked the knife out and finished the man off before cleaning the blade and sheathing it. He shouldered his pack and rifle and moved on, leaving the string of corpses behind, the rainfall causing the small campfire to hiss and sputter as he left the area.

Reaching the outskirts of the brewery, the trio came up on Tom waiting nearby behind the burned out shell of a car, all of them moving closer as Travis held up the pistol he'd bought from Arturo.

"Right…here we are, I guess. This is it."

"What can you tell us about this place?"

"It…it's where the gang…I mean, the one Bull and that other guy have? It's where they like to hang out."

"You know how many of them there are?"

"No."

Tom frowned.

"Okay, I guess some intel is better than none. I'm not going to lie, chances are one of us is going to get shot at the very least."

Travis visibly paled, Piper and Charlotte simultaneously slapping Tom in the back of the head. Silence for a few moments, Piper smiling reassuringly at Travis.

"Look, don't let him scare ya. Just stay alert and you'll stay alive. Besides, if we get the drop on em, this should be a piece of cake."

Tom glanced away before he took a breath and looked at Travis.

"…I never said it would be you. With my luck, one of these pricks will shoot me in the ass on the way out the door." The group smiled faintly at that, Tom clapping Travis on the shoulder.

Travis nodded, more to himself than to Tom.

"Okay. Okay good…I can do this. I can do this. Totally."

Piper glanced back and forth between Charlotte and Tom.

"That's a good attitude. Because in a minute, you're gonna have to."

Charlotte shouldered her laser rifle, powering on the recon scope.

"Captain Grimm, call the play."

Tom smiled grimly at Charlotte's attempt to psyche herself up into a military mindset. It was time to work. He shouldered the Helsing, cocking the weapon.

"Travis, Piper, rear guard. I'm first through the door. Charlotte, stay on my six. Nice and quiet, people. We go in loud, Vadim pays for it with his life. Ready?"

Nods all around. They moved as one.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Charlotte traded rifle fire with Bull, Gouger dead to a well-timed shot from Piper with a captured shotgun, Tom headed down a long hallway, a muffled curse and some idiot raider screaming he'd kill Vadim. Rather than do the smart thing and stay with his hostage, the raider stepped forth alone, weapon in hand to challenge Tom directly. Tom answered this challenge by putting a 10mm round into the man's forehead, already moving by the time the body dropped.

Tom found Vadim in an upper room, likely the manager's office, hands tied behind his back, the Russian on his knees.

"I didn't know if anyone would come. I thought perhaps, this is the end. Thank you, moya tovarich, you are true friend!"

Tom remained impassive.

"And you are an idiot. Are there more?"

"Nyet, this was best they could do. All dead. These idiots had caps and chems just lying around. They did not noticed when I filled my pockets. You deserve all of it."

Tom moved behind Vadim, pulling his bayonet and cutting the man's bonds as he pulled him to his feet, sheathing the knife.

"Hell, Travis here did the hard part. Convinced us to come save you, came through the door with us, took out a couple all on his own."

Charlotte whispered to Piper.

"I didn't see him actually hit anyone he shot at."

"Shh! Blue, don't ruin this for him!"

"He did now? Well, Travis I must say I am proud of you."

Travis smiled faintly.

"Well, I mean…you're my friend. You and Yefim both."

Vadim shook his head.

"You are full of surprises, my friend."

He lightly slapped Travis's cheek in a friendly gesture, looking at the others.

"Come come, let us go back to bar, drinks on me for my brave rescuers, da?"

The group filed out, Piper good naturedly ruffling Travis's hair.

Leaving Travis alone at a table with Scarlett, the trio slipped out with the promise of free drinks for life from Vadim, checking by Valentine's office again to see that Nick was still "sleeping". Charlotte decided to help Ellie out with another of Nick's cases, while Piper asked to accompany Tom out into the wastes, as there was likely a settlement somewhere that needed help. They went their separate ways, Charlotte promising to send word to Tom when Nick woke up. Tom for his part returned to the Red Rocket near Sanctuary with Piper, noting a few more guards and a more stable looking power set up with a few automated defense turrets and some scaffolding around the edges of the building, a "Minutemen issue" set of T-45 power armor inside the garage. The men patrolling snapped to attention and saluted, Tom smartly returning their salutes as he headed toward the settlement, the wood and metal gates opening to admit him and his traveling companion. Quick conversations with Preston had the two of them heading for the Corvega Assembly Plant in Lexington to help deal with a kidnapping by raiders. A little girl had been taken.

Charlotte walked toward Nick's office with a contemplative expression on her face. A guard had told her Ellie Perkins wanted to see her, something to do with one of Nick's cases.

A familiar bark caused her to look up suddenly as she dropped to one knee and pulled Dogmeat into a hug, gently stroking his fur.

"Hiya handsome. Was worried about you."

The dog put a paw around her back as though holding her, then suddenly pounced and began yipping like a puppy, licking her face as she giggled.

"Help! Vicious attack dog! Save meee!"

A few of the nearby security guards saw the commotion and began laughing, Dogmeat having pinned Charlotte to the ground by this time, his tail wagging madly as he dragged his tongue over her face, causing her to sputter.

"Get off me, ya furball!"

Eventually she succeeded in pushing the dog off her and climbing to her feet, affectionately scratching him behind the ears.

"Guess you missed me too, huh, boy?"

Dogmeat nuzzled into her hand as she held the dog close.

"Where the hell were you?"

Dogmeat barked and point his nose at the Valentine Detective agency sign.

"You were looking for Nick? But he's here."

Dogmeat shook his head violently as if about to sneeze, pointing his nose more intently as he moved closer to the heart.

"You were looking for…alright, Casanova, I get it."

Dogmeat sat down and proudly pointed his nose toward the sky, looking about as smug as a dog could before standing and walking to her side, Charlotte laughing as she walked into Nick's office.

"Ellie, you in here?"

"Hey, Charlotte."

Ellie walked up and smiled as she saw Dogmeat.

"Glad you're back, fella. We missed ya."

Dogmeat gave her a doggy grin and barked happily, scratching one ear.

"Is Nick…"

"He's still repairing himself," Ellie said sadly, stroking Dogmeat's fur.

"Well, shoot. What did you need to see me about?"

Ellie handed her a casefile.

"Since you and that friend of yours were so adept at finding Nick, I thought, while he's healing, you might lighten his work load a bit."

Charlotte felt her temper flare if only for a moment, but she calmed herself down and reasoned that until Nick woke up, they couldn't do much regardless. She smiled and took the file, Ellie allowing her to take a seat at Nick's desk, Nick situated upstairs while he completed his repairs. Charlotte, examined the file with the eye of one who had done this sort of thing for years, perhaps not exactly like this, but searching for evidence was in a way part of her job, putting the pieces together into a coherent narrative for a jury.

Earl Sterling's disappearance. Client, Vadim Bobrov. Another disappearing act to unravel. Earl Sterling. Twenty-five year old bartender at the Dugout Inn. One of the owners, Vadim Bobrov, noticed that Earl hadn't been into work for a few days. Security was called in. No investigation, of course. "The Institute took him", is the unofficial word about town, like always.

Vadim came into my office, half-drunk with a sob story about how he and Earl went way back, and that he just can't believe that Earl would get snatched up by the boogeyman. My gut says he's right.

Earl didn't have any enemies, at least none with motive enough to kill the guy. Not living with anyone, either, so I'll have to see if Vadim or someone else at the Dugout has his keys. I'd rather not have to explain to security why I was picking the lock on Earl's door, if I slip up and get caught in the act.

Charlotte set the file down and looked at Ellie.

"Earl Sterling. What's your take, Ellie?"

"Not exactly the type of guy that people would notice going missing, and Nick told me once that Earl wasn't charismatic enough to get caught up in a crime of passion."

Both women smiled slightly at that.

"Could it be the Institute?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Ellie. I'll poke around, see what I can come up with."

Charlotte slipped on her newsboy hat and ducked out, Dogmeat at her heels.

Arriving at the Dugout, she headed in to spy Vadim behind the bar. She walked up and ordered a shot of vodka, slamming it back in one pull and wincing slightly as she smiled at him.

"Charlotte! Moya Tovarich! What can I do for you?"

She smiled.

"Another shot, later. For now, I'm here on business. Doing a favor for Ellie while Nick is out of commission. Earl Sterling used to work here, right?"

Vadim sighed.

"Poor Earl. Gone just like that. Such a good bartender. Good friend. Oh, but terrible with women, mind you. I forgot to drop off the key when I gave Valentine's agency the job. Here. I hope you find out what happened. Security does nothing but yell at me for asking about it. I got to get back to work, you want drink now?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Shot and a nuka cola, please."

"Da."

Slipping out of the Dugout Inn a few minutes later, Charlotte made her way to Earl's house to look for clues, glancing around for anyone watching her before she slipped the key into the lock and headed inside. The first two words that came to mind were large, by Diamond City standards, and messy, by anyone's standards. Charlotte had left Dogmeat on watch outside, activating her Pip-Boy's light, the flickering green glow casting odd shadows over the room. Power had been cut, presumably because of his absence, so the light on her wrist was all she had to work with as she checked the file cabinets and shifted empty beer bottles around, careful to put them back where she found them, just in case a member of Security gave just enough of a shit to enquire about a break in. Perusing the files got her nothing, and she was about to start back at the door and give the place another broad sweep when she noticed a crumpled piece of paper by the sofa. Bending down she examined it and smiled, stuffing it into a pocket as she ever so quietly slipped out, closing and locking the door behind her, heading for the "Megasurgery Center".


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.

Piper and Tom had arrived at the Corvega Plant, Tom drawing his pistol and snapping on the custom suppressor, Piper doing the same as they moved quietly, out of range of the gun turrets tracking them. Eliminating two armed raiders who were busy discussing their next hits of Jet, Tom paused just before he struck, mentions of some raider named Jared, tracking a mysterious old woman traveling with a group led by "a black guy with a weird coat and some kinda cool cowboy hat." Tom paused. They couldn't possibly be talking about…

One of the raiders froze, the tip of a very sharp blade touching his throat from behind. Half a second later, his buddy dropped to the ground dead as he heard a voice in his ear, whisper quiet.

"This…Jared. He your boss?"

"Fuck you man!"

The slightest pressure caused blood to flow. Sharper than any blade he'd ever had!

"Is. Jared. Your boss?"

"Y..yeah, man, he is."

"This group you were talking about, where were they found?

"Easy man, be cool."

"Where?"

The raider swallowed. That voice…its owner was a man used to killing. Good at it.

"Concord. Some group holed up in a museum or somethin'. Boss sent people to ambush em. Wanted the leader's hat, bring back the old woman. Said she was important, never mentioned more than that. Honest, that's all I know, I swear to God!"

The voice went quiet, as if its owner was thinking something over.

"You a religious man?"

"Not…I mean, not really. My folks…before I was taken by raiders, when I was little."

A gloved hand jerked him around, he found himself staring into eyes that burned as red as the fires of Hell.

"Then don't swear to God. No point if you don't believe. Swear to me."

The raider shuddered, glancing down as a thin stream of urine pooled on the ground beneath him. The mysterious figure smiled without emotion. A swift punch, and the raider knew no more.

Tom turned to Piper, sheathing his massive knife.

"When he wakes up, maybe he'll reconsider his life choices. Let's move."

Piper visibly shivered.

"Jesus, Cap'n. Who…who are you?"

Tom pondered this in silence, whispering too quietly for Piper to make out.

"Now I am become Death. The Destroyer of Worlds."

Charlotte reached the Center, nodding to the doctor as she approached. He smiled slightly and nodded in her direction.

"Hello, Ma'am. What can I help you with today?"

She smiled politely.

"I'm working a case for Valentine's Detective Agency, actually. Do you know anything about this receipt?"

Charlotte batted her eyelashes ever so slightly, the doctor examining it.

"Let me see. Hmm…this is Doctor Crocker's deplorable handwriting, alright. Looks like Earl Sterling was one of his patients. The procedure noted here is mundane. Low-risk cosmetic work. Doctor Crocker never performed it, however, said Earl vanished before he paid."

Charlotte frowned slightly, turning it into a pout as she stared at him.

"Could you possibly tell me where the good doctor might be?"

Doctor Sun smiled kindly at her.

"Last time I saw him, he had to get something out of the Surgery Cellar. Probably just had to wash some needles or move some storage around. Now, I must insist we talk about your medical needs."

Charlotte smiled softly.

"I need to get into the cellar, Doctor. Then you can do a thorough examination, I promise."

The Doctor tugged at his collar slightly, glancing away for a moment before responding.

"I…why on earth would I let you down there?"

Charlotte smiled, walking closer to him…suddenly dropping the act and fixing him with a gaze that had made many a prosecutor almost wet themselves.

"I'm investigating a missing person's case. The trail leads to your basement. Now are you going to cooperate, or does Diamond City Security need to be called in?"

The Doctor swallowed nervously.

"You're…you're talking about Earl, aren't you? You can't possibly think…"

"I can, and I do, Doctor. Apparently, so does Dogmeat."

She pointed and Doctor Sun turned to spy Dogmeat sniffing at a blood trail before he turned and sat down next to the door leading to the surgery center. Doctor Sun paled.

"Now please, help me out here, and I promise that if you're on the level I'll buy lots of supplies from you and might even pay you to give me a check-up."

The wink she gave him held no humor in it, and Doctor Sun sighed as he turned and opened the door, muttering that he hoped Doctor Crocker was innocent.

Charlotte headed down the ladder and examined what was more or less a dirt celler held up by supports, chains hanging from the ceiling in places, and quite a lot of blood. Some fresh, some not so fresh. The Doctor in question was a man Charlotte had only met once, the man complimenting her on her fantastic bone structure, just barely managing not to make himself sound like a serial killer. He was busy monologuing, to Earl Sterling's very dead body. Charlotte's sidearm whispered from its holster as she held it in both hands. Suddenly Doctor Crocker spun, a pipe pistol leveled at Charlotte mere seconds after she'd trained her own weapon on his head.

"Whoa. Take it easy, Doc. Let's talk. About Earl."

Doctor Crocker shook his head.

"I didn't mean to do it! You have to believe me. Doc Crocker is a brilliant surgeon. No one dies under his care, no one dies!"

Charlotte blinked as two things became clear. One, that her gut told her he was telling the truth and hadn't meant to kill Earl. Two, that her brain told her he had snapped because of what he'd accidentally done. She was no shrink, but she'd seen the signs in cases enough to recognize them.

"They just walk away happy! Happy with my work! Happy with their new face! Not…not screaming and bleeding out on the floor! Earl…he just didn't want to be happy. That must be it."

Charlotte sighed, her voice calm and soothing.

"Doctor…we both know what happened to Earl was a tragic, terrible accident. You made a mistake, but you can still do the right thing. Just think this through."

"You're right. I can. There is something I can do to make it right…just…one thing…"

Charlotte's stomach dropped to her toes as she realized what he was going to do. He dropped his pistol and reached for a syringe, bringing it up to his arm. Like lightning she fired off a shot, clipping him in the right shoulder as he dropped the syringe. She moved forward and held the gun on him.

"Damn it, Doctor, that isn't what I meant. Now you and I are gonna wait right here for Doctor Sun and Security, we're gonna get you patched up, get you the help you need…somehow."

Doctor Crocker slumped to the ground weeping softly that he never meant to hurt anyone. Charlotte's voice was soft and understanding.

"I know you didn't, Doctor. Still a crime was committed. You'll have to answer for that."

Unintelligible sobs were the only response as Doctor Sun came down moments later followed by two members of Security. She holstered her sidearm and explained what happened, Doctor Sun moving to treat Crocker's wound while Security watched. A gunshot rang out. Charlotte spun, weapon up as it became clear what had happened. Crocker had gotten a gun away from one of the men, and taken the only course of action he felt was right, perhaps, the only course he felt he deserved. Charlotte glared hatefully at the now unarmed security guard, calling him several words not repeatable in polite society and slipped out, storming back to Nick's office in a haze.

She vaguely remembered telling Ellie what had happened, before collapsing into a chair, saddened and angry and hurt at what the world had turned into, and the idiots concerned with reputation over human life and morons in sports gear who thought they were security and dear God she missed her husband and really wanted to get drunk and sleep for a week.

She thought of Shaun.

Piper and Tom continued on, fighting their way through the factory, Tom moving in a blur, slashing this way and that, suppressed pistol shots the only sound as he moved, Piper following in his wake with a determined expression on her face. Something had happened. Ever since word of the kidnapping he'd been…darker. After what the raider had told him, she could practically feel the unholy rage clinging to him like an inky black shadow. Something had Tom pissed. In due time they had located the leader of the raiders, Piper locating the nearby hostage, a girl that couldn't have been more than thirteen. She'd been slapped around a bit, but Piper couldn't see too much permanent damage. With the factory cleared of all but Jared, Tom wordlessly motioned for Piper to get the girl out. Piper nearly wretched in disgust as she noticed a few suggestive rips and bloodstains on the girl's pants, scowling as she took the near unresponsive girl by the hand, calmly leading her out and firing off three shots at an approaching feral, glancing back at Tom.

"You alright, Cap'n?"

Tom nodded wordlessly, then spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Wait for me outside. Do not re-enter no matter what you hear. I'll be a little while."

He holstered his pistol and drew his knife again, heading up a catwalk as Piper led the girl out quickly.

Tom looked up from perusing the last of Jared's files, fists clenched in rage. Children. And these raider scum had come after the Minutemen intentionally. His Minutemen. He glanced back to Jared, or what remained. The raider leader had not died well…or quickly. Tom cleaned his nearly solid red blade off until its normal color came back, sheathing the blade and heading outside the factory where Piper waited.

"…Let's go. We'll need to come back after dropping her off with her parents. Something I found I want to check out."

"Cap'n are you…okay?"

"It was intentional. The attack on the Minutemen in Concord. The leader came after my people. And kidnapping a child…"

Piper leaned in and whispered into Tom's ear, the man stiffening in rage, a snarl dying on his lips as he glanced at the young girl, regretted he couldn't kill them all a second time.

The trip back was spent in a heavy uncomfortable silence. The girl was returned to grateful parents, who were confident that they could look after their daughter, the mother actually a doctor by trade. Returning to Sanctuary, Tom pulled Preston aside, had a long talk with the man in private, who promised to keep a closer eye on Mama Murphy for a while. Mama Murphy for her part said nothing when Tom approached, simply pulling him into a gentle hug and whispering in his ear that though it was harder to see, good still existed in the world. Tom left without a word, loosening up a little now that the threat had ended and the girl was safe. Inwardly, he was glad Charlotte hadn't been there to see what happened. Piper had been quiet enough as it was. Finally when they were nearly back to the Corvega plant, Tom sighed.

"Piper, I…I'm sorry. I never wanted you to see that side of me. …I'm not the nicest guy sometimes. I apologize."

Piper gave him a sad smile.

"Cap'n, in this case, I can let it go. But in the future, remember you aren't alone. You've still got Charlotte and the Minutemen."

"And you, I hope?"

Piper blushed and said no more, Tom giving her a cheeky grin. Piper noticed the smile, but decided not to comment. It was nice to see he was getting back to his old self at least.

"Sooo, what's so important you had to drag the both of us back here so soon…and without food, sleep, or a shower, I might add?"

Tom smiled mysteriously and led Piper to an old transport truck, this one with a locked rear loading gate, parked near the south side of the Corvega plant.

"Might be nothing, but if it is what I think it is, we'll see. Found an old file buried in Jared's stolen terminal that I don't even think he knew was there. Something about two special deliveries. If they are what I think they are…"

Tom took a look at the lock on the door and drew his knife. This one couldn't be picked. Using the knife like an exceptionally sharp crowbar, he sheared the lock off and pried open the door, the rolling metal sliding up to reveal…

"Holy shit!"

Tom grinned madly.

"Yes!"

After dropping off Tom's latest acquisition at the Red Rocket, for which they had to remove the power armor and power armor bay, the Minutemen gathered around whistling at their leader's new find, Tom and Piper made the journey back to Sanctuary to inform Preston, Piper vanishing behind Tom's house to help with the "Diamond City Security Project". In other words, to abuse her host's hospitality and steal his shower, and possibly his bed for a few hours.

Tom smiled as he shook her head and watched her leave.

"Hey General? I just wanted to say I…I'm proud of the work you've done so far. You've done more for the Minutemen since joining up than some of our people did in years. I'm proud to fight alongside you, sir."

Tom clapped Preston on the shoulder.

"A General is only as good as his right hand. You're a damn good man, Mister Garvey."

"Pleased to hear you say it, sir. Anything you need from me at the moment?"

Tom thought for a moment.

"Send Sturges up to the Red Rocket."

Tom handed Preston a list and a smaller bag of all the caps he'd found in the Wastes so far.

"Next time Carla comes through, get what you can off that list. What you can't, send people for."

Preston eyed it and gave Tom a questioning look.

"Is this for…"

"Yes it is."

"You've got it, General."

Tom headed up to the Red Rocket, setting his hat and glasses aside and shrugging off his armor. He located an old mechanic's jumpsuit and slipped it on over his fatigues as he set his gear inside the guard barracks upstairs, returning to the garage as Sturges walked in, giving off a low whistle.

"Wowee, now she's a beaut."

Tom grinned.

"You wanna give me a hand with her, and fixing up our new friend here?"

"Sir, it'd be a true honor."


End file.
